Harry Potter: The Alchemists' Quest
by The Ferryman
Summary: The cards have been redealt but the game is the same, and the only thing on the line is the future of the world. A Shade stalks the corridors of learning, shadows gather on the horizon. A prelude to approaching war. Hufflepuff Harry, Year 1, post-Downfall
1. Chapter 1: At the zoo

**General Issue Disclaimer-y thing**: Harry Potter is not mine. I was heartbroken when my lawyer informed me of this, but dem's da breaks. Harry Potter's friends aren't mine, nor are Hogwarts, wands, magic, Diagon Alley, Hogsmead, Tom Marvolo Riddlet—known aliases include Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and I-Have-More-Hyphens-In-My-Name-Than-The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Will-Not-Die...

Author pauses to reflect. *Sigh*, I don't own anything recognizable from the books. I _do_ own those things not in the books that are not to property of other persons, real, dead, or imagined, but I stand to make no profits on them. If I did stand to make a profit do you really think you would be reading them here?

The Cards have been dealt again, and new player sits at the table, but the game remains the same.

_Incipit Liber Primus_

* * *

**Chapter 1: At the Zoo**

_Someone told me it's all happening at the zoo  
_-Paul Simon

Bob cracked an eye open and looked around. He'd just eaten the week before, a nice young buck rabbit, feisty, but tender, and if he no longer felt swollen from the meal he didn't feel hungry either. His yard, or so he thought of it, was all in its proper place. The plants were green, the branches sturdy, the stone floor was clean. He opened his other eye and checked his pool which was fed by a small trickling waterfall and drained by a little black device that tugged pleasingly on the scales when he chose to bathe. Yard check complete he shifted his bulk slightly so that the Great Light in his yard would warm a patch of scale that had been blocked a moment earlier. The back of his neck tickled slightly, but that was to be expected since he was about due for a shed.

He closed his eyes once more and went back to basking, ignoring the movement of the furless, pink-skinned, ape-like things outside in their oddly-colored coverings. Bob—all the exciting animals have names that are picked from write-in contests or chosen by Zoo directors because they are exciting or exotic; but no one cares about reptiles and amphibians except their caretakers who are an unimaginative lot, and 'Bob' is only one letter that is once removed from 'Boa', which explains why there are more boa constrictors named Bob in all the zoos of the world than there are lions named for Disney movie characters and tigers named for Rudyard Kipling characters and elephants named Dumbo (especially elephants named Dumbo) in those same zoos—wasn't certain the purpose of those coverings because there were a couple of Residents (which was how he thought of the Zoo's permanent collection of furless, pink-skinned, ape-like things as opposed to the _migratory_ furless, pink-skinned, ape-like things) who never seemed to be able to keep them on once the migratory flocks had left.

_Thud, Thud, Thud_.

Bob sighed a snake-like sigh. The migrants weren't supposed to pound on his window, but that never seemed to stop them. Honestly, what did he ever do to them? Did he go pound on _their_ windows when _they_ were trying to nap? No. So why did they have to pound on _his_? He contemplated moving, but there weren't really enough plants to hide him and he didn't feel like climbing up to his branch, besides which, neither was as nice and warm as his rock and if he did move it'd likely only encourage the _sschysss_—it was the closest he could approximate of a word that the newest Resident of the reptile house had taught him; Bob wasn't certain what it meant, but it seemed to have something to do with excrement and in any case was much easier for him to pronounce than the other sound the Residents used to for excrement (though he did note that the Residents also seemed to use it for things other than excrement). Why someone would go to the bother of coming up with sounds to convey the meaning of excrement was beyond him (Bob was clever for a snake, but not particularly curious, and in any case cleverness only goes so far in snakes), but he was happy to admit that it had some uses.

_THUD, THUD, THUD_.

The boa constrictor tucked its head under a coil. '_Go away idiot man-child or I shall have Karait visit you one night_' Bob hissed darkly. He wouldn't of course, Karait—the common krait was given a name by Kipling and is thus one of the exceptions to the dull names given by the reptile Residents—was as secure inside his home as Bob was in his. Besides, it was unlikely the migratory human—he had to think the sound since it wasn't one anything like he was capable of producing—understood what he was saying.

Idiot migrant-human suitably threatened, Bob turned to one of his favorite pastimes, dreaming of Brazil. He had never actually been to Brazil, he was what the Residents called 'Captive Bred' which meant, as near as he could tell, that he'd been born in London instead of Brazil. What Bob did have were tales hissed to him by his mother when he was still in the egg. She had been 'captive bred' as well, but one of the Residents that had cared for her had been fond of listening to other humans (not migrants, but not residents either) talk about far-off places, and when he wasn't listening to people talk about them he was reading about them, frequently out loud. It was through the stories this Resident had told his mother that Bob had learned about Sahara (delightfully hot if unpleasantly dry), India (a fun place to visit), Antarctica (proof that Hell exists, to a snake's way of thinking), and Brazil.

Hot, tropical Brazil. Where there were places to hide, a thousand and one new mammals and birds to sample, sunlight in abundance, things to rub against to sooth the maddening _itch_ of shedding scales. And above all, no furless, pink-skinned, ape-like things pounding on the side of his home.

Heaven.

_WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!_

Bob was startled out of sunny skies and humid air of Brazil and found himself back on his rock. Most of the _sshysssiss_ (which was how he did a plural) contented themselves with rapping lightly, but repeatedly. Very few actually reached the 'wham' stage. He could hear the _sshysss_ complaining about something, but its complaints were growing quieter which meant the migratory-_sshysss_ was finally moving on.

He poked his head up and opened an eye. A migratory human was standing a respectful distance from his window, not slamming on it, not even leaning and leaving paw-prints on it. It was wearing some type of device on its face (a sizeable number of the migratory furless, pink-skinned, ape-like humans did), and its strange coverings were less colorful than most wore and hung oddly.

After a while without the human saying or doing anything, Bob decided to try something new. He would try interacting with one of the migratory humans. He suspected it wasn't very smart, else it would be one of the Residents who seemed frightfully intelligent and could converse at length about places like Africa (of which the Sahara seemed to be part of, but included places that sounded almost as nice as Brazil) and others that he'd never heard of. Once the decision to interact with it had been made he was faced with a problem. How did one interact with a migratory human? The Residents seemed able to understand Bob and the other inhabitants somewhat, though none of the other snakes, or even the lizards, could report a Resident carrying on a meaningful conversation.

Giving a snake-like shrug (which involves more head and less shoulder) he turned to the migratory furless, pink-skinned, ape-like thing and winked.

It quite clearly started, sort of like the look the rabbit gave him in the moment between him dropping from the branch above it and the strike. Progress was clearly being made. Perhaps there was hope for these migratory humans after all. Bob looked at where the short fat human was waddling away with the tall fat human, looked back at the human standing in front of his yard, and then, in a decidedly over-the-top gesture, rolled his eyes before saying: '_I get that all the time_.'

'_I know_,' the human said in a voice that was so quiet that Bob was scare sure that he had heard the human speak, which was when he did it again. '_It must be really annoying_.'

Bob nodded in ecstatic agreement. He'd made contact with a migrant, and not just any migrant, one capable of actually _conversing_. Oh, the words weren't quite right, they were odd, stilted, with sibilants in odd places. Tex was sort of like that, he was a diamond-back rattlesnake from across the pond who disdained being called a yank—he tended to drawl his sibilants and had an accent that might as well be its own language. Only what this human used was rigid, rather than a relaxed drawl.

'_Where do you come from, anyway_?' the human asked.

Bob flicked his tail at the sign that the migratory humans liked to read aloud.

'_Boa Constrictor_, _lat._ Boa Constrictor_, Brazil_,' the human read aloud. "Brazil," it made the sound humans used because they couldn't properly hiss _Brazil_. '_Was it nice there_?'

Bob flipped his tail at the sign again.

'_Oh, I see—so you've never been to Brazil_?'

Bob shook his head and was about to say more when the skinny migratory human that looked sort of like a rat he'd eaten a couple of months before, started shouting. The short fat one waddled over and attacked the human he'd been talking to.

A moment later his entire window vanished. He'd seen them replaced before, and once one of the semi-residential humans that did work on the yard of the migratory humans, had accidentally broken the window of Tom', Dick', and Harry's (the chameleons) yard. But to simply vanish, one moment there and gone the next?

Bob gathered his coils together. He didn't know how or why (didn't really care for that matter) the glass had vanished. Only that it had. With no window he was free to explore the world for himself. Maybe not the Sahara and definitely not Antarctica, but there was still India and above all, Brazil.

Brazil. Home first, vacation later.

He darted between the two migratory humans with all the speed of a killing strike. He was well-rested, full of energy from his rock and the rabbit he'd had the week before, and wasn't weighed down by the digesting mass like he had been in the middle of the week.

'_Brazil, here I come_,' he called as he flowed out of his yard. It was dark and cool inside of the human's yard, but he quickly realized that their yard was actually a hide and that the yard itself was right through those open things at the far end of the room.

Harry Potter could only watch as the boa constrictor snapped playfully at Dudley's heels, and then went slithering towards the doors of the Reptile House. As it passed him it turned to him, and Harry distinctly heard it hiss: '_Thankss, amigo_.'

Harry barely managed to stutter "you're welcome," before a hand fixed itself around his upper arm and pulled him to one side of the crowd that was forming as people pressed out of the way of the escaping constrictor. He had had a number of hands grab his arms since he had come to live at the Dursley's, from his Uncle Vernon's ham-like paws to his Aunt Petunia's thin, cold, _spidery_, fingers. This hand was different, smallish yet firm without being painful.

"What are you crazy?" a distinctly female voice hissed at in his ear. "You can't do that in plain sight! Are you trying to bring trouble down on yourself?"

\|/\|/\|/

In Scotland, perched on a cliff above a lake with broad sweeping grounds that abutted a grim and ancient forest all of which were hemmed by craggy mountains, was a castle. This was no ordinary castle, but a magical castle. Inside the highest room of the third tallest tower (the Astronomy Tower and the Headmaster's Tower being the first and second tallest respectively, though there were persistent rumors that one of the towers that had no entrances was perhaps taller than either and perhaps even taller than both) was the personal scrying room of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy's Divination Professor, one Sybill Trelawney.

On this particular day Sybill had her size 6 crystal ball in its silver holder placed at the center of her circular work table, which was itself placed in the center of her work room. Covering the table was a black silk cloth that was heavily embroidered with mystic runes and symbols. At a spot on the table where her left hand naturally came to rest was a tidy little stack of cards.

Sybill took up the cards. They weren't her favorite deck, nor the first deck she had received as a gift, or the first one she had bought, or the color-by-astrology-rune deck she had picked up years ago and had worked on-and-off on for the past fifteen years. It wasn't the deck of her great-great-grandmother which had been passed down to her, or the deck she used for her greatest foretellings, or the deck she used when discovering what ill fates awaited her students, or the deck she took with her on her rare forays to the Great Hall that were charmed to be easily washed and to resist food stains. It was, in fact, a brand new deck of cards. A deck of cards that had been, purportedly, heavily enchanted, enchanted to the point where they could practically predict the future on their own. She shuffled them once, cut twice, and then placed them on the spot she had taken them from.

Immediately the stack slid over so that each card had a portion of its back exposed as they lay in a straight line before her. After a moment a single card pushed its way out of the others. With a shaking hand she picked up the card and turned it over.

"The High Priestess, secret or arcane knowledge," she murmured, then replaced the card, swept up the deck, shuffled twice and cut once. This time, instead of replacing the deck, she swept the cards out into a single line as they had fallen before. As one they flipped over, revealing themselves, and then they began to move.

First one, then another, and then another, until with an increasing frenzy cards were sliding up or down, displaying figures right-side-up or inverted.

"_Stop!_" Sybill shrieked. The cards froze, then all returned to their tidy little line. She took a breath, half released it, and then breathed a word into the room. "Who."

The Fool and Death cards of the Major Arcana slid up, and then the King of Wands slid down, inverting itself.

"The Fool begins his quest, Death, change, he will grow," Sybill muttered to herself. "King of Wands inverted—the Dark Lord," she gasped. The King of Wands and the Fool both retracted, but Death stayed exposed until she voiced, "When."

Two cards slid out instantly as Death retracted, Wheel of Fortune and the Seventh of Cups.

"Seventh Cups," Sybill muttered, "confusion, unable to decide or make a choice. Future?"

Both cards slid down, replaced by the High Priestess.

"The guardian of knowledge again?" she asked in confusion. "What is going on?"

Death grinned back at her.

"A change? A change in _what_?"

The Wheel of Fortune emerged again.

Sybill glared at her cards as though they had betrayed her. "You want me, Sybill Trelawney, Divination Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to _guess_?" The card inverted itself. "No? What is the answer you all-encompassing piece of…" she stopped as the card slid back into place. "All-encompassing," she mused. "Everything has changed."

High Priestess, inverted.

"Knowledge that is guarded, that is being kep—_no_," she caught herself. "The _future_ has changed." Sybill's eyes blazed behind her thick glasses. "Someone has disrupted the flows of Time itself!" she shrieked upstarting, her chair falling back behind her as she stood. "How am I to know what will happen tomorrow?" she demanded the empty room as she strode around it in a blind panic. "My students will be expecting—Worse, _Minerva_ will be insufferable. How could this have happened? Who could have even done it? Certainly not some Ministry hack with a time-turner."

She turned back to glare balefully at her cards, but stopped when she saw that six had pushed themselves free. No, seven. The four queens, Death again, and curiously stuck together were the Magician and the Fool inverted.

Sybill contemplated that arrangement for a moment, then went and fixed her tea things, adding a particularly strong medicinal belt to her teacup. She considered the teacup for a moment, then added another belt and then another, and then… Deciding that would do for a start she added a little tea to the cup and contemplated the cards before her.

"Four women plus whoever the Fool—and so very aptly named that one—is, changed the timeline. They did it so totally that I can't tell who is going to die tomorrow," she said with a calm that comes with four medicinal belts. "For all I know tomorrow doesn't exist, and I can't say I want to know how they managed to do _that_. So instead please tell me _why_ they thought this was a good idea."

Chariot inverted, Justice inverted, Tower, Fifth of Pentacles, Seven of Wands, World inverted.

"The Chariot could be any number of things," Sybill muttered. "Justice, a world out of balance. Tower, sudden knowledge a sudden change not for the better. Fifth of Pentacles, a low point, ill luck. Seven of Wands…the siege card?" She frowned. "A losing battle, one that put the entire world at risk?"

She paled abruptly. "No, not a battle, a war."

She finished her tea and reached for the sherry bottle. Some tea found its way into the cup next. "What nonsense," she muttered. "No war could go so badly that it'd make sense to nearly destroy everything. In fact, it did destroy everything just not yet."

The Ten of Swords peeked out at her which caused her to abruptly stop muttering. "So it's not as bad as I thought, it was worse."

Sybill snorted into her sherry. "What nonsense," she repeated. "Show me the Dursleys."

The inverted Empress, expected though not particularly welcome, would be the Aunt. She had never met the muggle sister of Lily Potter, had only ever met Lily once, actually, and her husband not at all, but Minerva's descriptions of the family the one day she had spent observing them were more than sufficient to explain the card, just like the Page of Wands (inverted) was her boy and the husband was reflected by alternating inverted Kings of Cups and Pentacles—this time the former. They really were a rather unfortunate lot, only rarely had she seen such grim cards. But there was no sign of Harry.

Sybill leaned forward in her chair. Seldom had she ever seen Harry absent from the Dursleys, and on those days the Dursleys often had much happier cards surrounding them which wasn't the case today. "Harry Potter."

The cards seemed to shake, stirred by an unseen wind, and then the Magician slowly pushed its way free.

Sybill dropped back in her chair. In all of her readings one Harry Potter had always been the hardest to pin a signifier on. It wasn't uncommon for a person to have several cards they closely aligned with. The elder Dursley, for example, appeared as two different kings and even the devil—which suggested excessive self-indulgence on his part-more than merely occasionally. Of course, having multiple signifiers, and especially more than two or three, was something more commonly seen among the very young. Most children were relatively unformed so some instability was to be expected. The Dursley boy was rather the exception to the rule in that regard.

But Harry didn't stop at three or four. He cycled through all of the Pages as well as the Fool from the high arcane with depressing frequency. In the last three years, instead of slowly stabilizing, the problem had grown worse as cards like the Hermit and the Hanged Man had been showing up in her readings, often with the High Priestess inexplicably appearing nearby.

The Magician, though, was a card she had never seen representing him. And as the High Priestess emerged once more from the line of cards, it was followed by Death.

She frowned, that card had been showing itself far too often for her taste. A little change was all well and good, but it made her job so much harder to do. On the other hand, the High Priestess confirmed the Magician which meant Harry Potter finally knew about magic.

Probably.

"Show me what has caused things to change."

All the cards retreated except for Death.

Sybill Trelawney swept up the other cards and placed them in a tidy little stack, then picked up the last card.

Nothing.

Sighing, she stood up, but as she did so one finger brushed against the crystal ball and her world convulsed.

/|\/|\/|\

She found herself standing on a platform guarded by wrought iron railings overlooking the unmistakable city of Paris. But this wasn't the modern Paris she knew, nor was it the city of her youth. This Paris was a fire-blasted shell of its former glory. Fires burned with the sickly-sweet stench of burning flesh. Buildings were reduced to rubble through which people moved. Some of them were digging out other people, others searched the ruins for clothing and food and other things needed for survival. While this was going on there were more people fighting. Some of them were wizards—the flash of spell-fire unmistakable—while others wielded clumsy-looking muggle weapons, against which there were other wizards and things that shouldn't exist in the darkest of nightmares.

"You shouldn't be here."

The world stilled. Spells hung in the air below where she stood like colorful faerie lights. There was no sound, it, like the spells and the people below, had fallen still. Sybill turned to find a young woman, scarcely more than a teen, staring at her. Her skin was pale and sunken, her raven hair was limp and stringy. Her robes were little more than spun shadows that billowed around her so that the only part of her that seemed _real_ was her face.

It took Sybill a moment to realize that the woman wasn't looking at her, wasn't addressing her, but was, in fact, looking at someone _behind_ her. She started to look behind her, but Paris spun about her and was gone before she finished turning. She found herself sitting down to a pleasant-looking lunch at some kind of open-air restaurant that was perched on top of a building.

The sun was high overhead, and instead of the chill of Hogwarts she was immersed in a bone-deep warmth that seemed to penetrate to the core of her being. The sky was like crystal, marred only by fluffy white clouds. Below where she sat there was a beach, and beyond that an invitingly blue ocean. And somewhere there was music playing so softly that she was only barely able to make out the words.

_Death comes in a blinding flash_

_Of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash_

The world twisted again, and when she was able to blink her eyes she found herself standing in muggle London. She wasn't sure where, it was a large paved plaza with a column in the center that ended in a jagged spike where it had been snapped off ten or twelve yards above the ground, while two nearby fountains (one looked mostly intact while the other was a shattered ruin) were both bone dry.

When nothing happened Sybill took a hesitant step. The world _rippled_. Weeds and grass burst from between the paving stones. The shattered fountain began to gush forth blood. Everywhere she looked there were bodies, not whole bodies, but the skeletons that were all that was left after soft tissue had decomposed. Some still had scraps of cloth or leather, all that remained of their clothes. Most of the skeletons weren't even whole, bones were scattered everywhere. Tiny slivers of brittle bone crunched under her feat.

People hadn't just died in the square, they had been ripped apart into very tiny pieces, and some of the bones looked like they had been gnawed on. The sky above her was dark with clouds that roiled and boiled, and lightning flashed angrily but there was no rain.

"What happened here?" she asked, caught in the vision and wondering just which question this was trying to answer.

The world shifted again. The same square, but the column was whole with some man in a muggle uniform perched on top, and the fountains flung water into the air. Everywhere people hurried. They wore dark clothing and didn't look at each other, reminding Sybil of the dark years when Voldemort lurked unchecked and terrible. It took her a moment to realize that they weren't passing through the square, but they were leaving it. Many up the steps of a large stone building on one side of the square, but others were hurrying down streets or into passages that lead somewhere underground.

"Do you remember Paris?"

Sybil turned. Standing in the midst of the panicked muggles were two figures who weren't moving. One was the woman she had seen on the Eiffel Tower. Her robes still swirled, but they were real, not conjured shadows, and she clasped a metal-shod staff capped with a gem that was larger than Sybill's fist. The man standing next to the woman was about the same age though it was hard to be certain. He wore war robes, had long, messy hair that was gathered into a tail by a piece of leather at the nape of his neck, and like his companion carried a staff, though unlike her he also wore a sword belted at his side.

"Of course I remember Paris," the woman said. She gave the man a look, "Why?"

The man smiled and eyes the color of the killing curse blazed behind a fringe of raven-colored hair.

"Harry James Potter," a wizard said, striding out of the crowd of panicked muggles. It had to be a wizard from the cut of the robes, but the voice that spoke was unnaturally high and a deep hood masked his face.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry said. He raised his staff and spoke a Word.

Sybill felt like someone was ripping out an intangible part of herself. For a brief moment ilence reigned supreme, unmarred by running feet or throats open in unheard screams. The world shuddered, and then a hole was ripped through, well, everything. One of the fountains was ruined and water turned to blood as it gushed past the hole in reality. A _nothingness_ loomed through the hole, not a black void, not a white light, just…_nothing_. Then a great eye pressed itself against the hole, it was dozen of feet across and burned with reds and yellows and colors the human eye wasn't capable of seeing but that the mind interpreted of stark raving horror.

_Things_ pushed through the void. Roughly human-sized but bent and misshapen with a multitude of crustacean and insect-like limbs that had joints that swiveled instead of hinged, and double-jaws that hung from skull-like heads with dozens of eyes.

They tore through the living humans like a great white shark through chum, but they didn't cross into this world alone. There were tall, spindly things that coughed and spat acid. Hulking monstrosities that were taller than a double-decker bus and was covered in massive slabs of armor that reductor curses barely pitted. Long, centipede-like things with snake-like bodies, lobster-like claws, and a wide, jawless maws that were filled with hundreds of teeth.

Anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards snapped into place, and suddenly Lord Voldemort was trapped in the plaza with the creatures. And as Sybill watched, reality at the edge of the rift started to warp and buckle as it was sucked in. Monsters loosed into the world attacked indiscriminately. Muggle and wizard, vampire and werewolf, troll and giant. All were fair prize

Once more the world warped and once more Sybill found herself on the Eiffel Tower with the strange woman.

"I had to come."

Sybill turned to find once more the older version of Harry Potter standing behind her. He walked towards the woman, passing through the Divination Professor as though she didn't exist until he stood next to the woman and stared down at Paris.

"Did—"

"I got out what I could," Harry said in a dead-sounding voice as he watched the horror unfold below him. "Why?" he asked softly. "He won this time, why this?"

"Because he—" the woman said. Time jumped and her voice continued, "—spare them there is one last thing we can do for them."

"And what's that?" Harry asked bitterly. "Kill them first?"

"No, better," the woman smiled cruelly. "We can use them as bait." She began to explain.

As she spoke the scene shifted again, Paris was still in ruins with greater damage than before though the fires had mostly died out. Voldemort's minions, his army of trolls and giants, vampires and werewolves, the wizards and witches he could bribe, threaten, or seduce into his service squatted on the ruins of the once-gallant city. But in what were once the outskirts of the city, built centuries before to prevent what had happened with _Cimetière des Saints-Innocents_ from happening again, were four great cemeteries, and in each of them bare earth began to tremble as gates of mausoleums creaked open and cover-stones shifted. Nor were these four alone affected. There were more than a dozen large cemeteries in Paris, including _Les Invalides_, the military cemetery, memorial, and museum. As the dark fell, silent figures once more fell into grim and ancient rank and files.

Beneath the streets, in a segment of the quarry that spanned less than two kilometers, disjointed skeletons began to reassemble themselves. They didn't take to the streets right away, but instead broke into the sections of the quarry that remained officially off-limits. Muggles that had fled into the ancient quarries to escape the terrors above, shrank away in fright, or took off running if there was space to do so, but the dead paid them no heed.

It was an army of the dead, but they weren't the sentient or semi-sentient dead. They didn't care about the living, but they didn't _not_ care either. They were totally and utterly indifferent to anything except their orders, and while they didn't care any more about their orders anymore than they cared about the mundanes in the catacombs, they would complete them.

Sybill gasped as the dead rose and tore into the living. A giant's foot could destroy a dozen skeletons, a wizard with the proper fire spell could incinerate a hundred or more. When the _Cimetière des Saints-Innocents_ had been excavated it was estimated that more than 6 million skeletons had been exhumed and moved into the catacomb, and it hadn't been the only cemetery whose contents had been moved. She could only watch in horror as Paris, the City of Lights, was inundated by a tidal wave of the dead.

"I don't understand," Sybill whispered as the world twisted around her one more and she found herself back at the roof-top restaurant. The woman, still wearing her robes of spun shadow but with her hair clean, sat across from her. Next to the woman was the wizard. Before each was a sword in a scabbard. The wizard, a cruciform sword with a gilded hilt set with rubies, the largest, larger than a hen's egg, was set in the pommel. The witch's was also a cruciform blade, but the guard was made from twisted iron thorns of black metal. The only color coming from a glowing dark-blue gem set at the center of the guard.

"Is this the future, or only a _possible_ future?" Sybil heard her voice ask without the slightest regard for what _she_ wanted to ask.

Wind teased the edge of the table cloth, causing it to dance. It caught the wizard's hair, and as it rippled she saw the painfully red, lightning-bolt shaped scar on the wizard's forehead, and his piercing green eyes.

"Harry Potter," she whispered.

A light like a light-charm cast by Merlin and magnified a thousand-fold stabbed into her eyes a moment before a blast of hellish heat slammed into her. She shrieked as her eyes boiled inside their sockets, bursting and running down her face and leaving behind the after-image of Death grinning at her from a Tarot card, and still music gently played in the background.

_Now the sun has disappeared  
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear_

/|\/|\/|\

Albus Dumbledore watched as his enchanted quill signed his name with the expected flourish. Despite the fact that the quill was entirely propelled by magic his hand was twisted and cramped from the hours he'd already spent at his desk doing parchment work. Not for the first time he regretted ever agreeing to replace Armando Dippet. That was not to say that he didn't find his job rewarding. Of all of the posts he held Headmaster of Hogwarts was the one he cherished most. But if there was on regret that had come with the post is that there was far too much paperwork and far too little interaction with the students.

With a heavy sigh he folded the sheaf of parchment, slid it into the waiting envelope, and then reached for the stick of purple sealing wax. But barely had the wax been held over the flame of a candle than one of his many magical instruments began tooting like a hot tea kettle. Intrigued, he set aside the wax and stood, moving around his large desk to where the shelves of magical devices stood.

He checked the devices that monitored the blood wards on Number 4 Privet Drive and the tracking charms on Harry Potter first. All were normal. It was the magic detector that was monitoring Harry that had gone off first. He tapped it with his wand, and the result made him arch one eyebrow and rub his beard with a hand. So young Harry had encountered another wizard or a witch, a young one. The instruments that monitored the Ministry's Trace monitors remains silent so whoever had done the magic, had not yet received the year-end warning. Likely a muggleborn then, that had just produced his or her first accidental magic.

A double tap of his wand and a murmured incantation produced several tiny puffs of grey smoke. Yes, that was the likeliest explanation. A young mage that clearly wasn't of age yet and whose signature wasn't recorded in the Book in which the names (and magic signatures) of all Hogwarts students were inscribed. There was a slight possibility that Harry had produced the magic, but unlikely. Harry was nearly eleven. By now he should have the rudimentary grasp on his abilities that most wizards and witches were capable of before starting Hogwarts. His Aunt would have explained how he needed to keep his magic secret, possibly the other contents of the letter he had left her as well. That Harry would actually meet someone magical before he started Hogwarts was unplanned, but hardly unexpected. In fact this wasn't the first time that a combination of devices had alerted him—though it was this _particular_ combination's first time-but in all of those cases the wizard of witch was known to him. Diggle had been the worst of the lot, no less than _three_ warnings for him.

Still, a friend who shared the mysterious abilities known as 'magic' would probably do Harry well. That had always been the downside of placing Harry with the Dursleys. More than one muggleborn student had had numerous problems after being so radically separated from pre-Hogwarts friends, and one or two had displayed a remarked reluctance of ever forming any social connections to the rest of the student body afterwards.

Still, the location was the middle of the London Zoo. Most accidental magic that occurred in later years was due to stress such as some form of danger or perceived danger. Not that that was the case here, of course, if Harry had been in any danger at all no less than four different alarms would have sounded to alert him to that fact. But it begged the question of what, exactly, the burst of accidental magic had done.

Worry assuaged, Albus Dumbledore turned away from the magical instruments and started to return to his desk when the wards trembled around Hogwarts, and then an alert began hammering inside his head. It wasn't an attack alarm, but one that signaled a very serious magical accident in the highest room of the North Tower.

He turned to his right as Fawkes awoke with an irritated squawk, but still flung himself from his perch. Albus caught the phoenix's tail as it swept past, and then both disappeared in a flash of flame.

\|/\|/\|/

Ronan looked up abruptly and stared at the sky as Hagrid talked about one of the students that had recently visited his cabin, and his own meeting with Harry Potter outside of Gringotts. The centaur tuned out his friend—as much as any two-legs could be considered a friend—as he rapidly searched the day-lit sky. It was harder, the sun was so bright it washed out detail, the stars viewed in daylight were always so much less precise than those at night. Despite that he looked with all the ability his species was renown for, and all he found distressed him. Nothing was in its proper place. Something had changed. Something profound that upset the paths and motions of the intricate Dance of the Sphere.

No mere wizard or witch would see it, he knew. Muggles, with their sensitive telescopes so many more times powerful than the greatest instrument of glass and brass that the wizards could develop, and devices capable of seeing so much more than mere light, might be able to detect the changes. No doubt they would pass off the changes as a mistake, as so many of their kind did, and even if they did not it they were too rational. They could see the Truth—or at least that was the way the centaurs saw it—but their rational minds weren't capable of reading it. The wizards produced some people capable of Reading the stars, but they cloaked it with so much claptrap that when they did get the right reading it was invariably for the wrong reasons, and ability or no they didn't have their muggle counterparts' sensitive instruments or the Centaurs' own innate ability to keep track of all the heavenly bodies.

Now he Looked to the skies, and deep in the double human and equine hearts of his complex circulatory system, Ronan was afraid.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry frowned as he looked at the person addressing him. A girl perhaps a year or two older than him glared down at him. Eyes the color of bright, primary-colored blue, shone out from black locks and pale skin; an old shirt advertising a Black Sabbath concert was mostly hidden by a fraying denim jacket, and equally frayed jeans were tucked into battered black boots. "Who are you?" he asked finally. "What are you talking about?"

"That!" she gestured angrily at the snake that was slithering rapidly towards the doors. "Do you think exhibit-glass just _disappears_ on its own? The mundanes certainly won't! You can't just go doing that type of thing without drawing attention to yourself."

"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested, pulling away from the strange girl who had grabbed him. Or that was his plan. He didn't accomplish much.

"Of course you didn't," she snorted. "Listen here, little wizard, you can't just go throwing magic around in the mundane world without visiting a whole lot of trouble on a lot of people even _if_ the stupid Ministry doesn't get involved."

"Magic? The Ministry? What are you talking about?" Harry asked as she dragged him into a dark corner of the reptile and amphibian house. "Let me go!"

"What am I—" She shook her head. "A newbie, great. First, call me Allie." She grimaced. "Better than my _real_ name anyway. Who are you?"

"Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Are you?" she asked, tilting her head to one side as her demeanor shifted from concerned to curious. "Are you really?"

"No, I'm Prince Harry, who _else_ would I be?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No need to be _rude_," she huffed, her other hand snaking forward to lift up the fringe of his hair.

"Hey!" Harry protested, jerking his head back. "Nothing to see, just a stupid scar, okay?"

"You're Harry Potter, and you came with _them_?" she nodded towards the Dursleys where Vernon was yelling and Dudley was squealing.

"Unfortunately," Harry muttered. "My aunt, uncle, and cousin—the skinny one is his friend, Piers Polkiss."

"Delightful," she said dryly and glanced at her watch before scanning the reptile house again. "Why are you with _them_ of all people…and why are you dressed like that?"

Harry frowned, "It's not like I have much of a choice now, is it?" he shot back. It wasn't his fault that Aunt Petunia always made him wear Dudley's too-large cast-offs.

"There is always a choice, Harry," she said, giving him an odd look. "It's just a matter of recognizing them."

"So what, I could go with _you_?" Harry asked sarcastically.

She gave him a considering look before shrugging, "If you wanted."

"And your parents won't mind?" Harry snorted.

"My Mum's dead," she said bluntly. "Father-dearest is in prison—long may he rot there."

"Oh," Harry said. "I'm sorry, my—"

"Don't be sorry, nothing you could have done about it," she cut him off with a shake of her head. "And I know about your parents."

"You do?" Harry asked. "How?"

"Long story, and not one that we have time for right now." She looked at the Dursleys again. "I just _know_ I'm going to end up regretting this," she said. "We don't have much time, yes or no?"

"Yes or no, _what_?" Harry asked.

"Are you coming with me or not?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh," Harry glanced at the Dursleys. "With you," he decided.

"Good, let's motor," she said, moving her grip to his hand and pulling him through the crowd. "The first thing we have to do is get out of here, then we have to get you cleaned and—"

"I had a shower last night," Harry protested.

"Not that kind of clean," she said as they exited the reptile house. She glanced around, then took off down the walk. "Walk quickly but don't run; act like you know what you're doing and where you're going."

"I _don't_ know what I'm doing," Harry muttered, "_or_ where I'm going."

"Right now you're walking with your sister towards the front entrance where we're going to meet up with our parents," she whispered urgently after glancing around at the others walking by. "Keep that idea in your head and _act_ like it!"

Harry nodded carefully. Clearly the girl was half-mad. He thought for a moment before deciding that half-mad was preferable to the Dursleys.

Apparently she had figured out what he was thinking because she gave an irritated little sigh. "I am _not_ mad. Well, at least not _all_ mad. People notice if you look lost or uncertain. If you know what you're doing, they're less likely notice you."

"What if you don't know what you're doing?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't matter, just so long as you don't let it show." She nodded towards a sign pointing giving directions to various parts of the zoo. "If you stop and look at it, someone will stop and ask if you're lost or need help. But a glance will tell us that the entrance is this way," she waved ahead of them, "and will also let those around us know, or at least think, that we know where we're going."

"And where is that?" Harry asked.

"My flat, for tonight at least," Allie said. "It's not much, but it's a roof, and it's warm," she said. "More importantly, we can talk there. Before we go there, however, we have to—"

"Get me clean first," Harry said.

Allie nodded.

"Why?" he asked, stopping abruptly. "If you're one of those weirdos who—"

"I'd hardly admit it, now would I?" she asked, cutting him off.

Harry hesitated. "I, er…"

She grinned broadly.

Harry flushed, as she chuckled, and then realized she wasn't laughing at him. Not the cruel laugh Dudley used when hunting him, at least, but a light, amused sound at his reaction to her. After a moment he let out a careful chuckle, and when she didn't react except to laugh harder he joined in.

Allie dragged him out of the way of the people that were walking around them. They collapse in the grass next to a building.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm Allie. I'm sort of notorious, you see," she said conspiratorially. "It's nice to be with just someone who knows me as Allie. I'm sure you understand."

"Um, no, actually," Harry said.

Allie looked at him puzzled. "I'd have thought with all the attention you get you'd be happy to be just Harry."

"Attention I get?" Harry asked. "From the Dursleys?"

"Not them," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Do you mean to say they didn't tell you anything?"

"Why should they?" Harry asked. "They have their precious Dinky Duddydums. Why would they waste their attention on me?" Allie stared at him for long seconds until he flinched and looked away. "Sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to upset you, maybe I should go back—"

"No," Allie said firmly. She reached over and grabbed his hand with her own. "You didn't upset me, Harry."

"But you—"

"Let me finish, please?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"You didn't upset me, Harry, you surprised me," she said.

"Surprised you," he repeated flatly. "How is their ignoring me, when I'm lucky, surprising? You saw what they were like!"

"You'd be surprised," she said with a wane smile. She glanced around, "Do you think they'll notify security about you being missing?"

"They probably won't notice until Uncle Vernon wants to yell at me for something," Harry said. "And after that snake…"

"Yeah," she agreed.

He stood, "So…main entrance?"

She nodded and they resumed walking towards the entrance. "I, er, hope you don't think I'm rude, but…" he hesitated.

"Go ahead and ask, Harry," she said.

"Okay, but…if your Mum's dead, who do you live with?"

"Myself, mainly," Allie said. "There were some family friends I lived with after she died, but right now I'm in…uh, in a program of individual study…sort of like a really old-fashioned apprenticeship. I suppose that might sound a little weird if you didn't know about…" she shrugged.

"No, actually it sounds brilliant," Harry said. "I'm supposed to go to the local comprehensive this September. Dudley is going to be going to Smeltings."

Allie nodded politely.

"But if I'm going with you…" Harry hesitated.

Allie shook her head, "I'm afraid not."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked.

Allie smiled, "Do you like surprises?"

"Not most of the ones I've gotten, no," Harry said.

"You'll like this one, at least until reality rears its ugly head," Allie said. "Trust me."

"You're sure?" Harry asked.

Allie nodded as they neared the entrance. "Who doesn't want to be a hero?" she asked.

"A hero?"

"Uh-huh."

Harry hesitated, "maybe this isn't such a good idea." He pulled away from her. They were at a point where paths that led to different parts of the zoo met, and he looked at the guide signs.

"What if I can convince you that you're special?" she asked

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Look," she said, fishing a penny out of a pocket. "Normal, right?"

Harry nodded warily.

She made a fist and closed her eyes, her brow furling in concentration. After a moment she opened her eyes again and motioned Harry over to her.

Harry hesitated, but when he finally walked over to her she was offering him a cupped hand. Sitting in it was the penny, only now it was gently glowing. He looked at her for permission, and at her nod he picked it up. It was definitely producing its own light, though it was wan and feeble in the bright afternoon and as he watched it first dimmed...and then went out.

"How?" he asked.

She grinned. "Magic."

"And I can do that?" he asked in a soft, almost reverant, voice.

"That and more," she replied.

Harry nodded slowly. "And you'll show me?"

"A little at least." She gestured towards the entrance of the zoo as he handed the coin back to her. "Here's where it gets tricky. Pick a family that's leaving and follow them closely enough to look like you're _with_ them, but not so close that they start asking questions. I'll go first, watch me, then do the same thing."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because two kids leaving together without an adult are more noticeable than two families leaving, each with an extra kid," she explained before lengthening her stride.

Harry watched as she walked purposely towards the entrance, changing her stride to a stroll as she drew close to a family of five, the mother pushing a stroller ahead of her while her husband adjusted a camera bag. She strode past them through the gate, took five steps, then spun and looked archly at them. Or rather, she looked _past_ them at Harry.

Harry shook his head and continued walking, looking around for a family to follow through. He spotted a family of three and managed to take two steps towards them before he accidentally bumped into someone.

He turned and froze as a tall, thin, woman that for a moment reminded him Petunia, stumbled. He leapt backwards just as it seemed as though she was going to trip over him when her husband caught her.

"Sorry, sorry ma'am," he blurted. "I didn't see you and—"

"Easy, easy," she smiled. "No harm done, young man."

Harry hesitated, then ran to the door and pulled it open for her. "Really," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry, and—"

"It's okay," she laughed. "Where are your parents?"

Harry hesitated. "Dead," he said softly.

She froze, "I'm so sor—"

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "You didn't know." He glanced at the underground entrance, "I have to go, my Aunt and Uncle—"

She nodded, "Go. I hope you enjoyed the zoo."

"Oh I did, it was lovely, Ma'am," he blurted, then turned and raced for the underground.

"Such a polite young boy…" he heard the woman say to her husband.

"You realize that she'll remember you, don't you?" Allie hissed, grabbing his arm as she led him down the steps into the underground station.

Harry looked at her.

"The more people recognize you the harder it is to disappear," she told him. "If your Aunt and Uncle report you missing, and she hears about it, she might remember you well enough to call it in."

"Oh, sorry."

She shook her head, "You have _got_ to stop apologizing for everything that you don't know."

"I'm sor—"

Allie turned and glared at him and Harry looked down at the ground.

"Hey now," she said, "none of that."

Harry looked up hesitantly, "Sorry?" he asked, and relaxed into a grin of his own when she grinned back at him.

"Ready?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

She led him over to an automated kiosk and bought a pair of tickets, then went to a bank of vending machines for a pair of sodas and candy bars.

"Nobody's ever…" he stopped abruptly as Allie led him towards the platform.

"I refuse to talk on an empty stomach, and we're not going to get a chance to eat for a while," she tossed back at him.

"Until I get clean?" he asked.

"Until we both get clean," she said.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I'm not too worried about the—" she waved her hand around "—_mundanes_, it's the _wizards_ I'm worried about."

Harry looked at her blankly.

"Look, Harry, there is…" she grimaced in frustration. "Magic exists, okay?"

"Magic," Harry repeated tonelessly. Sure the girl had gotten him a soda, and she _seemed_ nice, and best of all, she'd gotten him away from the Dursleys; but that didn't mean she _wasn't_ crazy, did it? Even if she had said that she wasn't all mad. Maybe it could come and go.

"Did anything strange ever happen to you?" she asked. "Something that you couldn't explain?"

"Besides glass disappearing from a snake exhibit?" Harry asked without thinking.

"Does there need to be something else?" She asked as she led him onto a train. "Sounds pretty strange, doesn't it?"

"I don't know how I did it," Harry said softly.

Allie nodded.

"Strange…and I can't explain it," he repeated. "Once, Dudley and his gang were chasing me and I ended up on top of the school kitchens, though I didn't remember going up any stairs or ladders. And there was this time when Aunt Petunia wasn't happy with my haircut so she took some sheers and nearly made me bald; when I woke up the next day all my hair was back…do those count too?"

She nodded.

"And making a horrible jumper shrink so that I couldn't be made to wear it?"

Another nod.

"And that was…caused by magic?" he ventured.

She nodded again, only this time it was accompanied by a broad smile. "Exactly."

"But how come everyone says magic isn't real then?" Harry asked.

"Because most people don't know that it is," Allie said.

"Why not? I mean, how would you hide it?" Harry demanded.

"Because magic hides itself," Allie said.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Why would magic hide itself?"

"It doesn't, really," Allie said. "It's the people who use magic who hide it. A couple of hundred years ago a lot of people got scared of magic users and tried to kill them. So the magic users got together and decided to hide. Nowadays magic-folk keep to themselves. Since the mundanes don't interact with magic, it stopped being 'real' to them."

"So only some people know about magic?" Harry asked.

She ran a hand through her long black hair. "Most magic users tend to keep to themselves. They have their own government, their own schools, their own shops…and they have rules about using magic—namely _don't_—in front of people who don't know. They don't interact much with those who don't use magic."

"And you're a magic user?" Harry asked.

"So are you," Allie pointed. "I've no doubt that you will prove to be a very fine wizard once you've had some training."

"Wow," Harry said. "Am I going to have to get an apprenticeship like you, or am I going to be able to go to magic school?"

Allie paused and an expression that Harry couldn't identify, but didn't look happy, passed across her face. It was gone in an eye-blink, but when she spoke it was in a painfully neutral voice. "I don't see why you couldn't go to Hogwarts, that's the name of the most prominent school in the UK."

"That'll be so neat. I can't wait to show Dud—" he stopped abruptly. "If people who can do magic don't mingle with those who can't…"

"It's not that they don't, it's just that most don't want to," Allie said. "And there are people born into non-magical families who have the gift, it isn't confined only to magical families."

"But if I can do magic, why can't the Dursleys?" Harry asked. "In fact, why do they say magic doesn't even exist?"

Allie shrugged, "I don't know why they told you that magic doesn't exist, Harry. It could be they don't even know that it exists, or it could be that they're just narrow-minded…but I don't think so, at least about the first part."

"Maybe I'm one of those people born into normal families and they don't know?"

Allie didn't say anything for a while, but when she did she left behind the subject of the Dursleys. "So, there is the non-magical world, and then there is the magical world. There are also a fair number of people who don't really belong to either. Most of them aren't exactly welcome in the magical world; the parents of magical people born into non-magic families, for example.

"The Ministry of Magic likes to think it keeps all signs of magic undercover—but there are a fair number of people who know that magic exists, even if they don't know about the magical world. Also, most people from the magic world have a hard time blending in. Their taste in clothing tends towards…exotic, miss-matched clothes and colors that clash terribly. And then there are vampires, werewolves, and various other so-called 'dark creatures' that aren't welcomed by the magical world."

"So I'm some type of magician?"

"No, you're a _wizard_," she stressed. "Male magic users are wizards, females are witches—at least on the inside of the magic world."

"Was that how you knew me?" Harry asked. "Because of magic?"

"Sorta," she glanced around the car to see if anyone was paying attention to them, and then leaned in close. "I thought that you were either some magic user who thought he was playing a bit of a prank, it'd be about normal for most wizards' sense of humor. When you acted like you didn't know what I was talking about I thought you were one of those magic users from a non-magic family."

"You mean I'm not?"

Allie shook her head and her expression grew serious. "In the magic world you're famous."

"Famous?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, like household-name-famous; _everyone_ knows of you," she said, "At least those inside of Britain do. And that scar of yours is almost as famous. Nobody in the magic world has seen or heard of you in _years_, that's what has me worried. There's probably some warlock with some sort of monitoring spells on the Dursleys. Some way of tracking you using magic, and—"

"Wait, someone _knew_?" Harry demanded harshly. "Knew what they did to me?"

"I don't know, maybe," she said.

"And they didn't _do_ anything?" Harry asked.

She put a hand on his arm, "Did they ever beat you?"

Harry took a deep breath, then shook his head. "No, not as such. I mean, Uncle Vernon would punish me, but mostly it was sticking me in the closet under the stairs without supper. Making me do chores, housework and stuff. For the most part they ignored me otherwise."

"Abuse is still abuse," she muttered darkly, then looked away abruptly. "C'mon."

Harry followed her as she dragged him from the car at the stop. "Where are we going?"

"Just trust me, will you?" she asked, stopping in front of a bank of lockers as she fished a key out of her pocket. She opened one locker and pulled out a large, bulging book-bag.

"What's in there?"

"Supplies," she said, leading him towards the exit. "You said your relatives would most likely ignore you, would they notice you missing when they left the zoo?"

"Probably not unless Uncle Vernon is looking for me to yell at like I said," Harry replied. "Otherwise they probably won't notice that I'm not around until they want me to cook dinner for them. Or breakfast, if they decide to eat out."

She looked at him as they waited on the escalator to leave the tube station.

He shrugged slightly, "I, uh, do a lot of the cooking and all of the cleaning."

She nodded.

Harry shook his head, it was all very confusing. First there was the issue of magic. And then he was supposedly famous, thought he could never remember any indication that he was at all well-known. And then there was the issue of someone supposedly watching him grow up without every doing anything to stop the Dursleys.

It was like some dream, or perhaps nightmare…except that the exhibit glass really _had_ disappeared. And he _had_ talked to the snake. And then there were those other incidents. Certainly it was nice to _think_ that magic really existed, that he really _could_ escape from the Dursleys. But…

"C'_mon_," Allie said, jerking his arm.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Hotel," she gestured across a street.

It wasn't anything he had ever though a hotel would be like. There was a sign proclaiming it was, of course, but it was a low, grimy, _ugly_ building. There were cars, and none too clean at that, parked haphazardly in the lot in front of it; and to one side a dumpster with its lid ajar over the trash inside was parked just in front of a rather scary-looking alley.

"Meet me on the first floor, okay?" she asked as they crossed the street. "I'll get our key."

"We're going there?" he asked skeptically.

"Just to get rid of any tracking magic," she said.

"And how do we do that?" Harry asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said with a smile.

\|/\|/\|/

"You want me to do _what_?" Harry asked blankly, certain he hadn't heard her correctly

Allie had dumped the contents of the bag, mostly clothes, onto one bed and snatched a large canister of salt from the resultant pile. She had already poured down a heavy line in front of the windows, and was now pouring more in a half-circle that had the door as its base.

"Strip," she repeated. "Stick your clothes in the toilet and pour about a quarter of that," she gestured towards a second canister of salt, "in after it. Then draw a bath and pour the rest of the salt in."

"Okay," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Perhaps I should have asked _why_?"

She finished the ring and stood up. "Salt is good at neutralizing magic. Not _all_ magic, not even most, really. But it will stop most monitoring and tracking spells. Since those charms are easily placed on clothes, we have to salt the clothes. Since they can also be placed on a person, or the residue of such spells can rub off of clothing or residing at a place with them long enough, we also have to clean your skin, hence the salt water bath. Salting the entrances will serve to disrupt any tracking spells, hopefully long enough for us to get clean and leave."

She pushed past him into the bathroom. "Good, no window."

Harry heard the bath start, and then her head popped out, "You _still_ haven't started?"

"I, uh," Harry felt his face heat.

"Oh for—" she cut herself off and stepped out of the bathroom. "Go ahead, just hurry. Some spells can be transferred by contact. I touched you, so I have to clean myself as well. Don't bother rinsing the salt off, you can do that at my place."

"What about clothes?" he asked.

"Wrap a towel around yourself and come out when you're done," she shot back. "I packed enough stuff so that I could mix and match. There should be enough that we won't look too terrible, but not if we have to wash tracking spells off of them because one of us touched them."

She paused, "On second thought, stuff your clothes in this," she shoved the bag at him.

Harry gave her a searching look.

"I'll explain later," she said reassuringly as she held up a small, grayish bar of what looked like grainy soap.

Harry took it, and was surprised to find that it was a heavy stone.

"Lodestone," Allie said. "Magnitite, if you want the common name; very disruptive of magical fields. I want you to scrub down with it."

"Isn't that what the salt is for?" Harry asked. "Disrupting, er, magical fields?"

Allie smiled, "Yep, but lodestone disrupts magic in a different way than salt. Go on."

Harry nodded and ducked into the bathroom. He set the lock, then double checked it to make sure that it was locked, and sprinkled some salt in front of the door in a half-circle. He wasn't certain it would actually do anything, but, he decided, it couldn't hurt. The bath was filling nicely, and he dumped most of his canister, along with what remained of the first canister, into the water before stripping out of his clothes.

He stuffed the shoes in the bag first, followed by Dudley's too-big trousers and sweater, and Vernon's old socks. Harry hesitated before adding his skivvies. This was definitely turning into and odd day and his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten for a while.

He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to squeeze the bag out without disturbing the salt, then hurriedly slammed it closed and relocked it

"Remember to get _everything_ soaked and rubbed down with the stone," Allie called through the door. "I'm going to step out for a minute to get these taken care of."

Harry heard the outer door open and then close, leaving him alone in the hotel room. "A salt water bath to get rid of tracking charms, I'm famous, and the girl is clearly insane," he shook his head, unsure if he should be running away or breaking out in hysterics. He glanced at the line of salt in front of the bathroom door. "Probably not saying great things about my sanity," he muttered, and shook his head.

"Why can't my life be _normal_?" he asked. "Is it too much to ask for? A mother, a father, maybe a brother or sister…" He paused, "And a dog, definitely a dog—a big black one with a wet nose and a long tail that can't stay still."

He looked down at the full bathtub, "Salt water bath…what am I then? Pasta?" Probably not, he decided. But anything beat having to spend a night at the Dursleys. No doubt the bobbies would find him eventually and he'd have to go back, but it might be fun for a few days.

He slid carefully into the bath, relishing the first bath that he could remember with actually _hot_ water, and not the tepid, lukewarm water he was left with after everyone else had had their baths or showers. Even the annoying salty smell issuing from the bath didn't make it less enjoyable…

"Harry?" someone thumped on the door. "You still alive in there?"

"Wha—?" Harry started up in the bath, eyes flashing as he hurriedly scanned the room. It wasn't the bathroom at Number 4.

"Harry!"

"Just a minute!" he called, ducking under the water and scrubbing at his hair. "Just, uh, getting the salt worked in," he sputtered.

"Just hurry up," Allie called through the door.

Harry grabbed the stone, and for once living with the Dursleys proved useful. Years of having to take quick, thorough baths, had made scrubbing down and getting out very nearly instinctive. The lodestone was like no soap he had ever used; lightly abrasive, but without any suds, and oddly comfortable.

Harry jumped out of the bath and grabbed one of the thick, white, courtesy towels (wonderfully dry and warm), wishing he could take more time to enjoy being the first person to use a bath-towel for once, as he wiped salt water from his body. "Uh, done," he said, folding the towel around himself and reaching for the door knob.

"Good," Allie said, as he opened the door. He moved into the room, but Allie calling his name made him turn back. She gestured towards the line of salt on the floor, not crossing it, and looked inquiringly at Harry.

He felt his face heat, "I thought, uh…" he looked down.

"It was a good idea," she said. "Not sure if it did anything to help, but it certainly didn't hurt. Nice accurate line too, it allows the door to open without disturbing it. First time?"

Harry nodded.

"Very good job then," she decided. "Go grab some clothes and get changed."

Harry nodded again.

There was no underwear in the pile on the bed. Or at least none for guys, and he certainly wasn't going to wear what there was. He grabbed a black and red t-shirt advertising some kind of band and pulled it over his head. The smaller of the two pairs of jeans, he was pleasantly surprised to discover, actually fit quite well compared to what he usually had to work with. He had to roll up the legs, and if it was a little loose in the waist it certainly didn't compare to how Dudley's currently nine inches-too-big-in-the-waist jeans fit him. The socks he had to choose from were on the large side, and he had to tighten the laces in the shoes almost as much as it was possible, but on the whole he couldn't remember a time when he wore clothes that fit better.

Allie exited the bathroom with one towel wrapped around herself and another around her hair. She eyed him critically, "We're going to have to get you some things that fit you better."

Better? Harry's eyes went wide, "But these…I mean, these are very nice," he said politely.

She snorted, "No they aren't. They _are_," she stressed, "a drastic improvement upon what you were wearing. Where did they shop? Thrift stores?"

"Dudley's cast-offs," Harry said.

"The fat one?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well shit," she shook her head and reached for the remaining clothes. "Turn around, will you?"

Once more Harry felt his face heat as he did as she asked.

"Done"

Already? From what he knew from Aunt Petunia it should have taken—

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked quickly, turning back to face the room. Allie was once more dressed in black, but this time she was holding a small bag out to him.

"What is this?" Harry asked, taking it as she pulled on gloves of a similar material.

"Silk stops a lot of magic," Allie said, taking a plastic bag and disappearing into the bathroom as her lecture continued. "Not the…call it 'active magic' for want of a better term, but the more subtle things. It'll stop emitted magical auras and fields, and will allow a person wearing it to slip past a lot of the low-level wards. It'll also block magical transmissions, communication spells…"

"Tracking spells," Harry said.

"Those that broadcast an 'I am here' signal," Allie said. "Even if that signal can only be picked up by an enchanted compact-mirror a hundred miles away," she reappeared with the bag held carefully in one gloved hand. "Wanted to make sure I got everything."

"What about the salt?" Harry asked.

"We'll leave that for house keeping," she said, tossing the key on one bed before leading Harry out the door.

A/N: The music Trelawney heard was 'The Sun is Burning' by Paul Simon, and is not owned by me.


	2. Chapter 2: Do You Believe in Magic?

See disclaimory thing in Chapter 1

**Chapter 2: Do you Believe in Magic?**

"_Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it.  
__Action has magic, grace and power in it."  
_Johan Wolfgang von Goethe

Albus Dumbledore paced the parapets of the East Wall like an ancient sentry watching for some enemy to come over the horizon. Despite this he was not actually watching the horizon. In fact, he was not watching much of anything at all. The East Wall was one of his favorite haunts when he had to think and his office grew oppressive for two reasons. First, there was hardly ever anyone there because it was remote, and second it was hard for the spacious vistas to be anything close to oppressive.

Young Harry Potter had met a new magic user, and not seconds later, alarms had screamed that one of Albus Dumbledore's professors had been seriously wounded. Fawkes had taken him to Sybill's work room to find the Divination Professor standing before her table, Tarot cards swirling around her as though caught in a vortex though there was not the slightest breeze. Her fingers had been so firmly affixed to the crystal ball on the center of the table that her skin had actually burned to it. What had been most disturbing, however, was the blood and thicker things streaming down her face from her ruined eyes as she stood motionless without making the slightest sound.

A moment later the crystal ball had disappeared in an explosion that rivaled anything he had ever heard come out of Severus Snape's classroom. Albus had gotten a shield up in time to protect himself, but Sybill had taken almost the full force of the blast. Poppy had arrived moments later, and while Sybill would live without scars to her face, her eyes were impossible to fix. It might be possible for her to be fitted with a pair of magical prosthetic eyes, but not until it was discovered how her real eyes had been ruined.

If, that is, she would even accept them.

Privately Albus had his doubts. Portraying herself as the blind Seer who gave up purely mortal sight to see glimpses of the future was just the kind of thing Sybill would enjoy playing to.

But his worry about what had happened had been eclipsed by worry about what Sybill had said before Madam Pomfrey had dosed her with a dreamless sleep potion so that she could work. The medi-witch had been inclined to dismiss Sybill's ravings as the product of shock, and they might very well be so. But the idea of an older Harry Potter loosing demons into downtown London filled him with a sick sort of dread. And necromancy, while not the 'darkest of the Dark Arts' as some sensationalist authors and politicians would have people believe, was no better. Worse, it seemed as though he hadn't used either because he'd become a Dark Lord himself, but because he'd resorted to it in order to fight Tom.

Then there was the nameless woman. He couldn't think of a witch that bore her resemblance in Britain, but she could have easily come from another nation. France, given that she had first appeared in Sybill's vision of Paris? Yes, that was it. She was probably French.

That other nations would join their fight was only mildly hopeful for it meant that Tom had most likely attacked them first. His former student had many faults, but stupidity had never been among them. If he had felt comfortable attacking outside of Britain, it meant he felt that he could win even if the nations gathered their strength against him.

And not only that, if Sybill's ravings had been a true vision and not a product of insanity or pain, it meant that he not only felt comfortable facing all the wizarding world, but the muggle world as well.

In his youth Albus had dreamed of uniting the two, for both worlds had many things to offer one another, but now? Their weapons were too great. The fear in the world, scarcely unknown in his childhood, was now so great that their responses bordered on psychotic. How would they respond to magic now? With fear, with hatred, or even worse, would they see magic as the answer to all of their problems like far too many witches and wizards did these days?

He had headed for the East Wall upon leaving the medical wing, but no sooner had he stepped outside than a portrait had informed him that Hagrid needed to speak with him immediately. Such words and tone were foreign to the half-giant's normal demeanor, and the Headmaster had hurried outside to Hagrid's hut to find him standing with a centaur who had told him, in depressingly unobscured language, that the stars had been twisted out of alignment.

What was that supposed to mean? He didn't question Firenze, the ability of centaurs to be able to hold the positions of all the heavenly bodies inside their minds and point them out with amazing accuracy at slightest need or want, was well known. In fact it was only very recently that the muggles were able to devise machines that approached the same capability and sensitivity as a centaur. But something that could twist all of the stars and planets out of their ordained tracks?

Something buzzed in his robes and Albus absently pulled his pocket-watch out of his robes and peered at the twelve hands. It took him a mount to realize that it wasn't the alarm that reminded him of tea, but something else buzzing. He pulled out a second pocket-watch and touched a tiny stud. A small crystalline sphere, barely larger than a snitch, popped out of the face of the watch. Fully a score of hands swept through circles inside the sphere and Albus Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat for all of the hands should have been still, or, at most, only two or three should have been moving.

Harry Potter was missing.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry Potter was not missing for he knew exactly where he was.

He was sitting in a tattered armchair.

The fabric was worn smooth where it wasn't ripped, and all four legs had been removed some time in the past so that the bottom of the chair rested on the hardwood floor of Allie's flat.

Most of the décor was utterly—almost boringly—normal. The furniture was mostly old and heavily worn. None of it matched, and none of it would have passed his Aunt's muster, but he didn't doubt that, like the legless armchair he now sat in, the rest were all sinfully comfortable…if somewhat strange to sit in.

He moved in the chair, trying to get just right. The short distance to the floor was…odd to say the least, and he finally settled for curling his legs up next to him and leaning heavily on an arm in a way that Petunia would never have allowed. For the first time in ages he was contentedly full. Not 'unhungry', not 'fine', _full_.

Okay, so the canned stew could have used some work, but it was wonderful nonetheless and fresh strawberries had made for delightful afters. One of them would need to go shopping if they were to have milk for breakfast, however.

Neither the odd furniture, nor the feeling of a full stomach, distracted him from the very…odd nature of the… Harry supposed he could call it 'art', but it wasn't like anything he had ever seen. Chalk drawings—a few numbers and many things that might have been letters, but mostly just squiggles—covered the walls, the ceiling, and portions of the floor. Many were set into patterns around circles or triangles, or many-sided many-pointed figures he had no names for. There were stars with five points, stars with six points, stars with 12 points or more. There were stars within stars, and stars within circles, and squares within stars, and combinations thereof. Some of the figures were in white chalk, others in red, blue, green, orange, purple, and a particularly vivid shade of pink.

Right before the large windows (which had their own designs) was an absolutely enormous circle. Matching it was an identical circle (as best Harry could tell) on the ceiling above it. Weird characters lined the outer and inner edges of the ring-like circle, and another set of characters, utterly different from the first, was set inside the ring itself. A large drawing, similar to some on the walls, depicting a triangle with a line through it with more of the odd writings, filled the inside of the circle.

"Like it, huh?" Allie asked.

"It's wonderful," Harry said softly.

His aunt, he knew, would have disagreed. The whole room was barely the size of the living room in Number 4. A mattress filled one corner opposite the corner which held a small range-oven, an even smaller refrigerator, a sink, and a trio of cabinets. The circle took up most of the third corner (opposite the door) and a second door on the wall shared by the kitchen and circle, led to a small bathroom that was barely larger than his cupboard under the stars but managed to fit in a toilet, a sink, and a shower. The outer wall, opposite the door to the hall, was brick, and wedged between the mattress and circle was a grate on a pair of cinderblocks, under which was a small camp stove. The odor of mildew and cigarette smoke (though he didn't see any sign that Allie was a smoker) was pervasive, and the ceiling bore the grim testament of water damage. Despite all of these failings, it was clean, and kept in a precise neatness that was the one thing his Aunt probably would have found satisfactory.

He turned to look at her. "What is it?"

She smirked. "Magic circle."

Harry scowled. "Okay, so what does it do?"

"See these sigils?" she asked, gesturing towards the walls.

Harry nodded, it wasn't like it was possible to miss them.

"These are designed to keep magic out, to nullify magic inside these walls," she said. "Most magic-users prefer wards, which are sort of like magical fences and burglar alarms and things of that nature. But like the mundane variety, wards can be broken if you know the right magic. There are more complicated, dangerous, wards that I could use, but since there is a whole building full of mundanes I prefer not to risk one of them setting something of that nature off."

"Could they do that?" Harry asked. "I mean, if they don't have magic…"

"You know those people who dig up old Egyptian tombs?" she asked.

"You mean the Pharaoh's Curse is real?" Harry asked.

"There are curse-breakers who are supposed to neutralize the curses the old wizards of Egypt put on the tombs before mundanes open them," she said. "There was one, back in the late eighteen hundreds, I think, that they missed. The mundanes got there first. I think it killed something like seventy people before the curse-breakers were able to stop it."

"Wow," Harry said.

"Since I didn't, couldn't, use wards I used a method that drove magic out. A sort of reverse-ward. Inside that circle is the one place in this flat where magic can be freely and easily practiced."

"Why would you want to keep magic out?" Harry asked.

"I like my privacy," Allie stated. "And then there are—" she stopped abruptly. "Let's just say I sleep better at night when I'm not wondering if something is suddenly going to pop up in my flat."

"Oh…does that happen often?"

"You'd be surprised," she said drolly. "Or it could just be me." She shrugged, "Either way, it is possible, given a powerful enough caster, for magic to be performed outside of the circle, but it will be far from easy. There might be a half dozen, maybe as many as ten, mages capable of it in the UK."

"Wow," Harry said again. "Are there a lot of…wizards and witches in England?"

"More than in some countries, less than in others," she replied. "We do have one of the most powerful wizards on the planet though."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly.

She nodded shortly, staring at the circle.

"Allie?" Harry asked when she didn't reply.

Allie turned to him and nodded towards the circle. "You want to try some?"

"Me?" Harry asked in surprise. "You want _me_ to try magic?"

"Why not?" she asked. "Go on and sit in the circle."

Harry got up and walked over to the circle and stood in it. "Now what?"

"First," she said. "You see that triangle with the line through it?"

Harry nodded, the indicated…design, he guessed, took up most of the inside of the circle.

"That's a lock. As long as it's there, the circle doesn't work. So erase the sigil—that's the proper name for it. There are a pile of rags in that footlocker next to the circle."

There were more than just rags in the footlocker, Harry saw as soon as he pushed it open. There were a collection of different colored candles in a variety of holders, some crystals, a pack of multi-hued chalk, and several knives…among other things he couldn't begin to name. He grabbed one of the rags and hurried back into the circle and began wiping away the chalked sigil.

"That's good," Allie said before he had done little more than smear the sigil across the circle.

Harry frowned, "I thought it had to be clean," he half-asked.

"Not clean, just broken," she frowned. "I don't think I can explain the technical details of it without explaining a bunch of other stuff first. Just suffice to say that it's the design that is important. If you break the design, you break the effects. Really, just breaking one of the lines, even if it was only by running your finger across one of them to disturb the chalk, would have been enough. Smearing the entire thing was more than sufficient."

"Okay," Harry agreed after a moment. "What now?"

She gave a half-smile that was not, quite, a smirk; and walked to the footlocker where she pulled out a plain white candle without a stand. "Have a seat," she gestured to the floor as she walked into the circle and sat down.

Harry sat down across from her.

Allie held the candle loosely with both hands. "Now watch."

Harry frowned, what, exactly, was he supposed to watch? When nothing happened right away he felt a stab of disappointment. Seeing all the pictures—_sigils_, he mentally berated himself—and the glowing coin, he had thought for a moment that magic was real. But as nothing happened he began to wonder if the coin hadn't just been a trick of the light.

"Harry?"

"Huh?" he asked, startled out of his reverie.

The candle was burning gently in Allie's hands. "Huh?" he asked again, staring first at it and then at Allie.

"Magic," she said.

"Can you do that again?" he asked.

She blew the candle out and held it again, "Watch this time," she said.

Harry concentrated on the candle, and this time noticed a brief wisp of smoke just before the candle burst aflame. He reached out to touch it, and pulled back with a singed finger. "Magic," he whispered.

Allie blew out the candle again and handed it to him. "There is a triad, three points—well, technically I guess there are five—that all successful magic is based on."

"You mean like magic words?" Harry asked. "Like hocuspocus or abracadabra and magic wands and top hats and stuff?"

She shook her head. "Incantations, wand movements, steps in rituals, or ingredients in potions, serve to harness effects. They make magic easier to both perform and duplicate. How much good does it do to develop a spell that can light a candle, for example, if you are the only person able to cast it?"

"Not much, I suppose," Harry said. "If you die or something it's lost forever."

"Exactly," Allie said. "Spell-crafting, designing new spells, incorporates things like wand movements and incantations to make a spell that other magic users can easily duplicate." She wagged a finger at him, "That is a gross simplification. _I_ certainly don't understand all of what they do. But the point remains."

Harry nodded, being able to make a spell that others could do made sense enough. A thought occurred to him. "But if you can come up with a spell that's the only way to do something, you can make people come to you to do it."

"There are some spells that a patented," Allie said. "Most of those are highly specialized charms. There are also some rare and exotic spells that are kept in certain families and passed down within those families, or passed from master to apprentice. Most common-purpose magic, however, is meant to be reproduced by everyday witches and wizards."

"So what is successful magic based on?" he asked.

"The first point is power," she ticked off a finger. "Take your pick on where it comes from. The pure-bloods like to say it comes from within a wizard or witch; that it's a part of them. Others say that power is external but witches and wizards are conduits for it."

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

Allie shrugged. "I don't know, and I can't say I really care. There are Talents, specific magical gifts that some people get and others don't. At least some of them seem to follow blood-lines, but not all of them do. I suppose they could be totally internal, or simply a way of using power that others can't. It's sufficient, I guess, just to know that the power exists and that not all wizards and witches are equal. Some are more powerful, some are less, and some are better in certain types of spells and weaker in others."

"If you say so," Harry said.

"Okay, point two," another finger. "Imagination. Some people have it, some people don't. There are mundanes with tons more imagination than most wizards and witches. Imagination sets the limit for what you can do. If you can't imagine doing more than lighting this candle, you're never going to be able to do more than light the candle. Doubt kills the ability to do magic faster than anything."

Harry nodded again, "What are the last three points?"

"Well, the two I wasn't really counting are skill and control," Allie said.

"So, spells and the like?" Harry asked. "Incantations and wand movements?"

Allie nodded, "That would be skill. The better you are able to duplicate those, the less power it takes."

"But you didn't use a wand," Harry said.

"Nope," Allie said. "Don't have one, never used one. That keeps me from doing almost all magic that mainstream witches and wizards use. But I'm powerful enough that I can sell what skills I do have in that fringe world I mentioned."

"Those that can't do magic, but know it exists?"

"Exactly. Now, I'm not saying there's no skill involved, just that my skills are sufficiently different to give wizards and witches as tough a time doing what I do as I'd have doing what they do." She paused for Harry to nod his head in understanding. "Control is the compliment of skill, and it deals with just what it sounds like."

Allie gestured towards the candle Harry held, "Starting a fire is a skill. Control would cover how big a fire you started and how much power it takes you to do it. If you channel power in the area around the wick there's a lot of power that isn't doing anything and is wasted, whereas if you channel it to just the wick you don't waste as much."

"How do I know if I'm wasting power?" Harry asked.

"Experience mainly," Allie said. "Magic is just like any other ability, the more you do the better you get. The better you get and the more experience you have, the better you get at manipulating it."

"Okay, so power is how much magic you can do," Harry said. "Imagination governs what magic you can do. So what's the last point?"

"Will. Strength of character. Want. Desire. Whatever you decide to call it, it all comes down to the same thing. A strong will requires less power to achieve the same result. A powerful wizard with a weak will, will waste power on spells that a middling witch or wizard can perform. There are spells, enchantments, that can make you feel or do things. A strong strength of character can fight them off.

"Now," she said, gesturing at the candle. "Take that candle and light it. You have power aplenty. You know it can be done because you just watched me. All you have to do is focus, and _want_ it enough."

"How do you want something bad enough to make it happen?" Harry asked, taking the candle. "I can think of loads of times I wanted something to happen, but nothing did."

"How about the glass of that snake enclosure?"

Harry bit his lip, "That was pretty neat," he said. "Um…there was this time I was being chased by Dudley and ended up on top of the school's kitchen. And another time Aunt Petunia nearly shaved me bald after a haircut and when I woke up the next morning all of my hair was back."

"Did you ever feel something special just before something did happen?" she asked.

Harry frowned. "No," he said after a moment, "Or at least not that I can remember."

Allie reached out and cupped his hands, still holding the candle, in hers. "Don't look at me, look at the candle. I want you to feel the wax under your hands, feel the line where wax dripped down one side. Start adding visual details…"

Harry felt himself starting to drift as Allie's voice droned. He was startled out of his reverie by Allie's hands releasing his. He blinked. Twice. It was…apparently not impossible. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "I'm looking at it, but…"

"Remember what I said about imagination?" she asked. "If you can't imagine yourself doing it, if you think you can't, then you can't. At the same time, if you think, even have a little niggling doubt that says you _can_…" She leaned forward and blew it out. "Now do it again, and this time," she stood up and stepped outside of the circle. "You're on your own."

Harry frowned, "Are you—"

"Not me," she cut him off. "You. If you don't believe, you are going to fail. Same as last time; focus on the candle, see the wick, picture what it looks burning, then _will_ it to burn."

"Okay," Harry said, not at all sure if he believed himself when he said it, but… Somehow the candle had already burned twice without any way of being normally lit that he had seen so that meant it had to be _possible_…right? He scowled and focused on that, the possibility that magic existed. He stared at the wick, then imagined it burning.

The candle remained unlit.

He scowled at it. Okay, that didn't work, so maybe if he imagined it being lit, a transition of some kind? The wick was cold to the touch, and he imagined it growing warmer, warmer until it was hot. A wisp of smoke curled upward from the black tip of the candle wick, then began to glow ember-red. But it wasn't until a flame appeared and then grew that he noticed…

And promptly dropped the candle on the floor where it went abruptly out.

"See?" Allie gave him another smile that stopped just short of being a smirk. "You can do it."

"I can do magic," he whispered.

He picked up the candle and stared at it for a moment. Then he turned and looked up at Allie. "Can you teach me something else?"

She snorted, "You're exhausted, Harry. Lot of excitement this afternoon, a good meal, and you spent almost twenty minutes lighting the candle."

Harry looked at the clock, "It didn't seem like it."

She shook her head, "You really have no clue, do you?" she asked.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes. "Why?"

"Most people can't do that, not right away. Figuring out how to consciously use magic without the use of a focus is something most wizards and witches have trouble with. Nature of how they learn to wield it, I think." She frowned in thought, but then shrugged. "I know other types of magic users don't have trouble with it. Could be a cultural thing, I suppose. My point is, that was a very good start."

"Oh," Harry said, picking up the candle. "You said I was famous?"

"Yeah," Allie sighed.

"So you know why I am?" Harry asked before yawning.

Allie nodded hesitantly.

When she didn't say anything Harry frowned. "Will you tell me?"

"You sure you want to know? It isn't really a nice story."

"Yes," Harry said.

For a moment he thought Allie was going to refuse, then her shoulders slumped slightly. "Fine. C'mon," she held out her hand for the candle, and when he handed it to her she gestured towards the legless chair.

Harry curled in the chair and watched as she put the candle away, then re-chalked the triangle design in the center of the circle. She dusted her hands when she finished and walked to the kitchen nook where she poured herself a glass of water and asked if Harry wanted one, which he politely declined. She returned and settled down on the couch.

"It begins with a Dark Lord," she said. "I like to think that magic isn't really good or evil, that it just exists and the way that people use it determines if it's good or evil. A lot, almost all, wizards and witches would disagree with me though so maybe I'm just projecting my hopes…" she stared down at her glass of water. "Most of them divide magic into 'light' and 'dark' good and bad. I don't know, I can think of a lot of ways that perfectly good magic can be used to hurt people. To be fair, a lot of what people call dark magic really is bad stuff; magic with far fewer good uses than bad ones…and some that have no good uses at all."

"Like…hurting people?"

Allie looked up at him, "Worse, much worse," she said softly. "The worst of it, what I know of it, has _no_ good qualities."

She was silent for a moment, then visibly shivered. "So… This Dark Lord, he was about as bad as they come. He killed a lot of people, made a lot of other people disappear. He started quietly at first, spent time learning darker and darker magic, using rituals to make himself more powerful. By the beginning of the seventies he had all of the British Isles, or at least the wizarding community, locked in terror. Nulls, the mundane world, they were both suffering too, but the wizarding world—as I said—takes certain measures to keep magic a secret from the mundanes, who wizards call 'muggles'."

She toyed with her glass again, "He never really got outside of the Isles. Most Dark Lords tend to be fairly localized, or at least regionalized, which is probably a good thing. For a time it was thought that he was effectively unbeatable. Utter nonsense of course. but people were scared, and scared people do…weird things. Your parents opposed him, the way I understand it they were pretty vocal about it too.

"Then they disappeared into hiding." She snorted, "They probably already _were_ hiding. Opposing a Dark Lord is one thing. Telling him where you live, your infant son lives, and inviting him to take his best shot is something else. Anyway, they went into better hiding. Only their location was betrayed. He showed up, killed them both, and then tried to kill you."

"What do you mean 'tried'?" Harry asked.

"I mean he tried to cast a death curse on you. And that curse…" she waved a hand airily, "bounced. The story goes that he died right there and you were marked with a curse scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on your forehead."

"You don't believe it?" Harry asked.

"I have trouble with some parts. Why you lived, for one. It should have killed you and didn't. There are theories out there that range from you being the second coming of Christ, to intervention by aliens, to being the reincarnation of Elvis. Probably the most serious one is that your parents' deaths formed some sort of protection," she closed her eyes. "Lots of people died, Harry, a lot of them in front of their families and friends who were killed in turn just as easily. Also, they say he died, but no body was ever found. Questions without answers."

"Could it have been destroyed by the curse?" Harry asked. "His body, I mean."

Allie shrugged, "I suppose. There are curses that will do that. But you were pulled out of the building so presumably the fire hadn't gotten to that point. The story actually names a specific curse, and that curse is _not_ capable of destroying a body—which brings up the question of, if you were the only survivor, how do they know which curse was cast?" she asked rhetorically.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He was simply _gone_, Harry, but nobody can say where or why."

"So I…defeated him?" Harry asked.

She shrugged again, "Apparently. Anyway, people went kind of crazy after that. The Dark Lord was gone and they decided it was party time. You became a hero over night. Haven't really stopped since. Expect everyone to know you. Most of them are going to want to look at the scar."

"I don't want to be famous," Harry protested. "Especially not for something I can't remember!"

"Yeah, well, we don't always get what we want," she muttered.

Harry flinched at her suddenly bitter tone, but she shook her head and said, "Sorry, Harry, you don't deserve that."

Harry nodded, "What was his name?"

Allie looked at him, "Sorry?"

"His name, the Dark Lord," Harry said. "What was it?"

"Most wizards and witches don't mention it. For too many of them it brings back memories that they'd just as soon forget." She snorted, "Gone for ten years and most are still scared witless by a name."

She shook her head. "Voldemort. He called himself Lord Voldemort, poorly pronounced French and all."

"Oh," Harry said. "So, another magic lesson?"

Allie laughed. "You feel up for it?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Okay then," Allie said. "Why don't you go grab that silk bag, and we'll check ourselves for tracking charms."

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" Harry asked.

"Mostly because any that we have on us after what we did are beyond anything I can do to remove," Allie replied as she retrieved blue and white chalk.

Harry watched as she drew several runes around the circle, explaining each one as she drew it, and then emptied the silk bag in the center of the circle. A wallet and some loose coins spilled out, followed by a charm bracelet, and two knifes in sheaths. One had a wooden handle, but the other (which was at least as long as his out-stretched hand) had a hilt that was black with a silver cap at the end and silver runes laid into it.

Allie swept up the collection and placed them on top of a piece of silk. "Now, I can't scan for magic traces directly, so I have to use an indirect approach and scan for all magic in effect."

"You mean spells and stuff that are already on them?" Harry asked curiously.

"That's exactly what I mean," Allie said with an approving nod. "Now watch."

Harry watched as she let a trio of candles around the circle, and then chanted for a moment in a language he didn't know. The circle glowed briefly, as did the things in it. When the circle stopped glowing, so did the wallet and change, and, after a moment, the plain-looking knife stopped glowing as well. In contrast, the black-handled knife looked like someone had dunked it into a rainbow and spun it until the colors wrapped around each other and then bound in place with a black and gold spider-web. For a moment he thought the charm bracelet was like the knife until he realized that where the knife was glowing with different colors, each individual charm glowed a separate color.

"What do the colors mean?" Harry asked. "How would we know if there is a tracking charm on one?"

"A tracking charm would show a magical link," Allie said. "Basically, we'd see a line of magic that went from it to the edge of the circle. If something had an illusion on it the illusion would ripple, allowing us to see what it was disguising. If there was something transfigured, we'd see an image of what it was made from."

"Made from?" Harry asked curiously.

Allie nodded, "There are spells that will allow a magic user to change a guinea pig into a teapot. If we had one of those, we'd see an image of the guinea pig."

"Why would anyone want to turn a guinea pig into a teapot?" Harry asked

"Probably some witch wanted to see if it could be done," Allie said. "Other than that I have no idea."

"And there isn't magic that could block us from seeing it?"

Allie looked at him.

"I mean, if magic can do anything we can imagine…"

Allie shook her head, "Imagination, or rather a lack of one, sets a hard limit, Harry. It isn't the only one. As for blocking this, sure, I can think of a half-dozen ways. What it is, however, is sufficiently _different_ from how most use magic that I don't think it'll be a problem.

"It's like the difference between am airplane and a train, Harry. Both will take you somewhere, but they do it in very different ways."

"If you say so," Harry said doubtfully. "So why do those things glow?"

"Well, the knife is a magic-working tool," Allie said. "It's had enough power channeled through it, or used to direct or shape enough power, that it's become a magic item in its own right. Each of the charms was forged with an enchantment."

She cancelled the spell and lifted up the bracelet, "Hold out your hand."

"It tingles," Harry observed as she dropped it into his cupped hands. "Is it powerful?"

Allie shrugged, "It depends on who you ask. A lot of witches and wizards would look at it and scoff. They'd have a point too. There is a lot of magic that can be done with a wand that just isn't capable of being done without one. Most of it is a lot more impressive than what can be done without one. On the other hand, for what it can do…"

Harry held onto the bracelet a moment longer before handing it back. "What about us?"

Allie shook her head, "Harry, if there is still a tracking spell on us it'll take me longer than we're going to be here to undo it. In all likelihood, a spell that is still in effect after what we did is either powerful enough, or subtle enough, that I'm not going to be able to remove it anyway. Especially not after that salt-water dunking we did."

"Because salt disrupts magic," Harry said.

"Especially my kind of magic," Allie said with a nod. "Try using it against someone with a wand and mostly they'll just laugh at you."

A thought occurred to Harry. "We lit the candles, how were we able to do that if the salt disrupts magic?"

"Because the candles were simply us," Allie said. "Salt is less effective against magic when it is focused that way. It'll disrupt spells that are more delicate, complex, and less so against magic that requires brute force."

"Oh," Harry said. He thought about it for a moment, "So most witches and wizards use wands, and the way they use them is the way we used the candles?"

"Very similar," Allie said. "We were channeling magic through the candles with the end-goal of lighting them. Wands are only one example of a magical focus, though the most common. A focus is a tool that magic is channeled through that concentrates and directs it more efficiently.

"Very generally speaking, there are only two types of magic, and everything else is a sub-type of one or the other, or both. The first is focus-based, which tends towards more immediate and spectacular. The second is non-focus based. It takes longer to set up, a single spell can take minutes, hours, or even days compared to seconds for most focus-based."

"Is it more powerful?"

"No, just different," Allie said. "But it is also a lot rarer in the magical community—at least it is in this country. Also it tends to be more seen in one-off spells. Unique spells, rather than those meant to be duplicated. Most people you see using it regularly will be like me, living on the fringe between both magical and mundane communities."

"Oh," Harry said. He thought for a moment, "So because I supposedly killed this Voldemort, I have to be part of the magical community? Does that mean I can't stay with you?"

Allie shook her head. "You're part of the magical community because you can do magic, regardless of what happened to you that night. And you can't stay with me, Harry. Not for long. I mean, I can barely afford to take care of myself. I have—"

"I can help," Harry protested. "I mean, I can cook, and clean, and stuff. That's what the Dursleys made me do anyway."

"It isn't that," Allie hesitated. "I didn't phrase myself well. I'm a..." she grimaced. "I have a magical gift that is—" she stopped abruptly and gave him a long look. "I can do something with magic that very few people can. It's sort of like talking to snakes, not many people can do it."

"I can, I mean, I talked to that boa," Harry said. "I liked him, he was nice."

"I believe you."

"Did you listen to us?" Harry asked.

"You were speaking parsletongue, snake-speech," Allie said. "Unless you can speak it, it sounds like, well, you were talking to a snake. It's all hissing and stuff."

"So everyone heard me hissing at that snake?" Harry asked.

"Those that were paying attention," Allie said. "I'd advise you to be careful with it when you're with wizards and witches, though. It's a really rare gift, and it is also one that is seen by most people in the magical community as dark."

"Dark?" Harry asked. "I thought you said there was no such thing."

"I said that _I_ don't really believe there is such a thing," Allie said. "Most people in the magical community say there is, and they'll turn on you in an instant if you appear as anything less than the hero they picture you as."

"But I didn't _do_ anything!" Harry protested.

"I know," she said. "Believe me, Harry, I know. Just…for your sake if nothing else, don't tell anyone unless you _really_ trust them."

"Okay," Harry said softly. "What's your gift?"

Allie smiled bitterly. "Parslemouths have an undeserved reputation for their Talent being a sign of a dark wizard, though there have been a number of very prominent wizards that have that Talent and only a few of them evil. The gift I have, well, let me put it this way. Its reputation is a lot darker than being able to talk to snakes is, and that reputation is less than half of what it deserves."

"It's dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Extremely."

"Oh," Harry said softly, not at all sure what he should say to that.

There was a knocking on the door before he could say more. A moment later the locks clicked back and the door was pushed open by a tall man wearing a black leather duster and holding a gnarled wood staff in his right hand. Grey shaggy hair fell to his shoulders, and his face was partially concealed behind great, shaggy whiskers.

"Master G," Allie said, standing.

"Ms. Hawthorne," he said with a German accent.

"Harry, this is Gilbert Sullivan," Allie said. "He's my teacher."

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said as the man stomped into the room.

"Yes, I see," the man said. "New to the world of magic, are you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed as the man crossed the room to him.

"Well? Stand up, boy. In the circle," he gestured.

Harry scrambled into the circle as Sullivan stalked to it without pause.

Sullivan thudded his staff against the floor and the runes around the circle burst into multi-hued light. Up close Harry could see that Sullivan's eyes were the peculiar grey color of storm clouds before their fury is unleashed, and the deep-set wrinkles around them conveyed an age his powerful form belied. A heavily callused finger pushed back his fringe and traced his scar.

"Hmph," the man grunted and abruptly turned away from him. "You can sit," he said dismissively.

"Well?" Allie asked.

"That curse scar acts as a personal rune, one with _power_ behind it," he said. "It isn't a Mark of Power, but with a piece of magic like that—if you survive it, of course—you cannot _not_ be linked at some level. There's also that Trace that your Ministry likes to put on magical children, though it's still dormant. It won't be activated until he has his wand. Aside from that he's clean—though with a blood sample someone wouldn't need to place a charm directly on him."

"There's no practical way of stopping something like that," Allie said.

"Hmph," he said again. "Did you even consider using a Binding?"

"You're joking, right?"

"What's a binding?" Harry asked.

"What does it sound like, Boy?" Sullivan asked, giving Harry a look that said quite clearly that the older man thought Harry was an idiot.

"It blocks off part of your being," Allie said. "I ran into a…poltergeist, I guess, at a house I was working at. Normal poltergeists are like avatars of chaos, but this one worked with fear. If you used the railing to keep from falling down the stairs it could pick you up and throw you down them. We all ended up starving the thing out. We wore Bindings against fear to keep it from feeding off of us. I can't tell you the number of times we almost killed ourselves because we had no concept of what was dangerous."

"And if blood was used to track me, a Binding would block off my blood?"

"Blood is an agent," Sullivan said gruffly. "The actual spell would have to be tied to something that is part of you, an emotion, magic, your health."

"Probably not the last two," Allie said giving Sullivan an intent look. "Slapping any kind of magic spell directly onto magic is incredibly difficult, and something as ill-defined as 'health' isn't much easier. Forget it. I'm not putting Bindings on him."

"Your place, not mine," Sullivan said with a shrug. "The wards you have will hold well enough. Even the Ministry's Trace doesn't function in here. But if someone was running a tracking spell using blood, or running an active scrying, they'll have seen him come in."

"Excuse me, but who are you, exactly?" Harry asked.

"You don't know who I am?" the man asked furiously. "I am one of the greatest wizards Prussia has ever produced. I did the Thaumeturgical analysis of dragon's blood and charted the interactions of seventh-sphere enchantments. I was the first to describe the use of multi-origin runeforms in conjunction with non-alphabetic iconographs. There was a time when even muggles trembled in fear of what I would do next!"

Allie rolled her eyes and mimed a mouth opening and closing with one hand.

"Muggles?" Harry asked, struggling not to laugh at Allie's irreverence for the imposing mage. "Are you…"

"Yes," Sullivan growled. "_That_ Gilbert and _that_ Sullivan. A Prussian librettist and composer poking fun at the ridiculous English concepts of law, the navy, and social position—not that Prussia's concepts were any better—would have hardly been appreciated in London. Not to mention the difficulties of cross magical/mundane business interaction. But pick out a pair of muggles with the right background…" he smiled. "I will admit that Gilbert had a fertile imagination and managed to get his actors to actually _act_, and Sullivan was hardly less of a task master when it came to getting them to perform their parts accurately and on pitch."

Allie snickered and Sullivan whirled around to glare at her. "You laugh, missy. But you forget—I know all of your secrets."

"And I yours," Allie said, her voice suddenly cold.

The man made another 'hmph' and turned away from her.

Harry hesitated, the man was gruff and rude and had called him 'boy' which was Uncle Vernon's favorite thing to call him (when he had to call Harry anything). But despite all of that, Allie clearly thought pretty highly of him and was learning from him, so…

"Sir," he said in a carefully respectful voice, "can you teach me magic?"

The man waved a hand behind him, towards Harry. "Enough with the 'sir' you'll make me feel older than my already very many decades." He turned back, "If you must, call me Sullivan. If you call me 'Master G' like Hawthorne does, I'll turn you into a fluffy white rabbit and feed you to a fox."

"Charming, isn't he?" Allie asked dryly.

"Okay, Master, er, Sullivan," Harry said, trying again. "Can you teach me magic?"

Gilbert gave him a long hard look. "Promise me the next eight years of your life, and I'll make you more famous than any wizard since Merlin. Albus Dumbledore himself will be in awe of you, and that self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord' you had running around a couple years back will prostrate himself at your feet. If you think you're famous now, just you wait. You won't have to hold any political position, but governments will do as you suggest. You won't need any general's stars, but any army you face will lay down their arms before you. You will never want for anything in your life. Money, women, glory, the very powers of the universe, all this I truly can deliver, and more still, if you accept."

"But I don't want any of those things," Harry protested.

The man smiled through his whiskers and his voice was soft as he said, "then truly you have more wisdom, Harry Potter, than most fellows thrice your age." He ran his left hand through his curly mane. "You don't need me to teach you magic, Dumbledore has a place open for you at his little school."

"His school?"

"Hogwarts," Sullivan said. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if you want the whole thing. There are dozens of magic schools out there, but Hogwarts is better than most. But even the best school is no good at all if you aren't motivated to learn. You'll do well there, I think." He turned to Allie, "You understand I want no part in any trouble that comes of this?"

Allie nodded sharply. "I do know other people than just you, Master G, and I know you like your privacy. If I have to I might be waking some up, but that's not a problem. This won't come back to bother you."

"See that it doesn't," the man said as he stomped his way to the door. He unlocked it and slammed it shut behind him.

"That was…interesting," Harry said as Allie pushed herself out of the chair and locked the door. "Is he always so…gruff?"

"Pretty much," Allie said. "A tad paranoid too, but an absolute genius."

"So he's the one that taught you," he waved towards the circle.

"More or less," Allie said. "You heard what he offered. He offered me something similar. It was a serious offer, both of them. I told him I just wanted to learn to control my…abilities. So he's taught me runes, wards, some ritual magic…" She yanked open a battered chest of drawers with a squeal of jammed wood and rummaged around for a moment before coming out with a t-shirt and a pair of biking shorts.

"Go take a shower and rinse the salt off," she told him, effectively ending the conversation by dropping the clothes in his lap. "There should be clean towels hanging up. That'll do you for sleep wear until we can get you some more appropriate clothes."


	3. Chapter 3: Brave New World

**Chapter 3: Brave New World**

John: "O brave new world that has such people in it. Let's start at once."  
_Brave New World_, Aldous Huxley

A peel of thunder that seemed to last forever startled Harry into wakefulness. He rolled off of the battered couch. The circle inscribed on the floor was lit up, the runes glowing with all the colors of the rainbow. Blue-white light filled the center of the circle as captured lightning arced between it and the circle on the ceiling that mirrored it.

"C'mon, Harry, we have to go!" Allie shouted in his ear.

Harry turned to her. Allie's face glowed from the energy discharges in stark contrast to the shadows. "What is it?"

"Someone tried to apparate in, magical teleportation," Allie explained, pulling him towards the grate over the camp-stove.

"I thought the…wards?" Harry asked, then continued without waiting for an answer from her, "Wards stopped magic inside the apartment."

"They do!" Allie shouted over the noise as she worked furiously on the stove to get it lit. "Even with the lock the circle is a weak point, makes it the natural point to apparate into. Of course right now it's acting like a trap because I closed it last night, but it won't hold for long. Not against someone powerful enough to force their way into using it as an apparting point. We'll have to go to that friend of mine a little sooner than I intended."

"How?" Harry shouted back as she pulled away from the now burning camp-stove.

"Magic!"

She reached up and broke a line in a drawing on the wall behind the 'fireplace', then grabbed a handful of powder from a jar next to it and threw it into the air above the grate. The small blue flames of the burning fuel grew until they danced several feet above the metal grating, and turned a venomous green. Seemingly unconcerned, Allie stuck her head into the fire.

It didn't seem to harm her, despite the fact that her head was in flames so thick and furious that Harry couldn't see her above her neck. In fact, if he didn't know any better, it almost looked like she was talking to someone, though he couldn't hear her any more than he could see her head. But when she pulled her head out a moment later she seemed in perfect health.

"Grab a handful and throw it in," she told him.

Feeling rather foolish, Harry stooped to grab up a fistful of the grainy powder and tossed it into the fire which had reduced once more to its normal blue flame. Once more they burst into green light.

"Get up there!" she shouted.

"You want me to do _what_?"

"Get on the grate," she repeated, grabbing him around the waist.

Harry tried to pull away, but she pulled him in after her and shouted something that he couldn't make out. He saw her scribe a line through a sigil on the wall, then they were spinning. He saw…rooms, places he didn't recognize. Most were dark and empty, but some had small floating lights, or candles, torches, or old metal lanterns, one or two had actual people…

And then suddenly they stopped spinning as one room in particular swam before them and they were pitched out onto the floor in a tangle or arms and legs.

"Allie?" a man with dark skin, a black beard, warm eyes, and a blue turban asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said, disentangling from Harry and brushing soot off herself. "I bloody well hate the floo."

"What was that?" Harry asked, pushing himself up.

"Floo," Allie said. "Go in one fireplace, come out another. Also has a handy function that works sort of like a telephone."

The man peered at Harry, "Is this…"

"Harry Potter, meet Chirag Patil. Chirag, Harry Potter," Allie said.

"Er, how do you do, Mr. Patil?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Quite well," he said. "I take it you are unfamiliar with floo travel?"

"No," Harry said. "I'm not familiar with it."

"He didn't know a thing about magic," Allie said. "I bumped into him at the zoo earlier today. Wild magic burst, vanished a pane of glass in a snake exhibit. I didn't even know who he was at first."

"You know nothing at all?" he asked.

"I know how to read, and math, and stuff," Harry said. "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't mean to imply that you were," the man said, raising a solitary eyebrow at Harry's reply. "I only meant to ask if you were totally unaware of the existence of magic."

"Oh, sorry," Harry said. "Allie told me some things. That magic is real and about Voldemort, sir."

"'Chirag' will do, or 'Mr. Patil' if you insist on being formal," he said, wincing only slightly when Harry invoked the dread lord's name. "Anything else?"

"Just that, Mr. Patil," Harry repeated.

"I see," he murmured. He looked at Allie, "Let me guess, you put him in the circle?"

"He lit the candle, first try on his own, in twenty minutes," Allie said. "And that before he'd rinsed the salt off."

"Salt?" For a moment Mr. Patil looked confused, then he chuckled and shook his head. "Still living like someone is out to get you, Allie?"

"It doesn't mean they aren't," she said. "You know very well what I stand to inherit, what my Talent is, and that my father is rotting in Azkaban for good reason. Any of the three would be reason enough for people to want to get their hands on me."

Mr. Patil didn't reply for a moment, "I think, Allie, that you would find it much easier to do the latter if you would trust yourself, and your training, a little more."

"Easy for you to say," she said tonelessly.

"Perhaps," Mr. Patil said, turning back to Harry with a smile. "Still, someone managed to light their candle on the first try—"

"Second, sir—sorry, Mr. Patil," Harry said, quickly correcting his mistake as the adult frowned. "I, uh, couldn't get it to light simply by imagining it burning. I had to imagine the wick getting hot and then—"

Mr. Patil laughed, "To get it lit at all on even your second try is no small feat, Harry, especially when you do it in the magical equivalent of someone else's private workshop. I'm amazed that Allie hadn't by now poured so much of her power into the place that you were able to get more than a wisp of smoke."

"I haven't had that circle all that long," she demurred.

Harry looked at Allie.

"Belief, remember?" she asked. "Doubt it a real magic-killer."

"Oh," he said in response and watched as Mr. Patil turned to question Allie.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"Someone tried to apparate, or maybe portkey, into my apartment," she said, "probably apparate. The circle trapped them. We got out as quickly as we could. I had us both take salt-water baths and rub down with a lodestone before we went to my flat, and I checked the few things I didn't abandon for a magical trace. I don't know who found me or how they did it, or if they were tracking Harry some way."

"And yourselves?"

"You're the one that taught me that magically imaging living things is harder," Allie said. "Besides, if there was a tracking charm on one of us that wasn't disrupted it'd almost certainly be beyond my skill to dispel."

"You think someone has been keeping an eye on Harry," Mr. Patil said quietly.

"Me?" Harry blurted. "But I'm—"

"Harry Potter," Allie finished. "I told you. In the magical community—the wizarding world, as it likes to call itself—you're a household name. Everyone has heard of you, though most of what they've heard is a complete fabrication. Also, just because the Dark Lord disappeared that day doesn't mean that his followers did. I wouldn't have put it past the Ministry to have a monitoring charm on you just in case one of them decided to kill you in revenge."

"You have been watching far too much muggle cinema," Mr. Patil said with a shake of his head before turning to Harry. "What about your relatives?"

"His relatives are nulls," Allie said before Harry could reply. "They didn't seem to notice him missing. I checked the news before I turned in, nothing about Harry being reported as missing. As I said, we both took salt water baths at a different location, we scrubbed down with a lodestone, and I sent his clothes off in a passing car. If there are tracking spells on him they're beyond me to block, and you know what my place is like."

"What about Mr. Sullivan?" Harry asked. From the way Allie suddenly tensed he wondered if he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Mr. Sullivan?" Mr. Patil asked.

"A friend," Allie said. She hesitated, before grudgingly admitting, "He's the one that's been teaching me and did a lot of the defensive warding on my flat. He didn't find any active tracking spells, but pointed out that with a sample of Harry's blood a long-term passive tracking spell could have been set up."

Mr. Patil nodded, "Such a tracking spell would report his last location before entering your apartment. Your front door, I presume. There are not many powerful enough to emplace a spell capably of standing up to those types of wards and then be able to report through the magical dead-zone within your flat. Most of those who could do it prefer a life of private research rather than employment in the Ministry of Magic." He frowned and stroked his beard with one hand, "there was no warning, correct?"

Harry watched as Allie nodded tiredly.

"The first notice we had was the circle-trap activating," the young witch said. She looked at a picture on a wall. Harry saw that besides the man, there was a lovely woman, and two girls about his age. All were moving.

"My floo inserted us somewhere inside two dozen random activations so we have a little security. If you still don't want us…_me_ staying because of the twins, I unders—"

"Think nothing of it, Allie," he said. "I, we, all owe you too much." He paused and looked at Harry. "And you have me forgetting my other guest. You remember where the guest rooms are, yes? Go, sleep. We can discuss what to do in the light of day."

"Darkness is better for plotting," she said.

"Not when you are exhausted," he said sternly. "Go. Sleep."

"Ah, excuse me," Harry said, and felt his face heat as both turned to look at him. "Is…is that picture…moving?" he asked, gesturing towards the picture.

"Yes," Allie said.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling somewhat relieved that he wasn't imagining it. "How?"

Both the man and Allie traded looks, and then Allie smirked, "Magic."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay…" he said, drawing the word out. He looked around again and bit his lip, "Um, what if whoever was after me decides to come here?"

Mr. Patil smiled at him, "Allie's wards are designed with her…unique abilities in mind. They create an area in which no magic is capable, thus limiting the chances of her harming another should she lose control of her Talent at an inopportune moment. As a side effect, they are highly effective in both hiding her location and making it difficult to enter by means of magic. The wards over this house are substantially different. One of the wards makes it impossible to apparate into the house or grounds for any who are not keyed into them. I assure you, you are quite safe."

"Oh," Harry said.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry woke up to find a face he didn't know filling his vision. Not only that, it was in perfect focus as its owner was less than four inches from his face.

"'Bout time you woke up," the face said crossly.

"Uh…sorry?" Harry asked.

"Not as much as you will be," the face promised, then looked up at someone else and nodded.

Harry sat up and reached for his glasses. His fingers had just coiled around the cool metal and glass when there came a squeal from out in the hall, and he got his glasses on his face just in time to get a perfectly focused vision of a red streak in mid-air. Then the bed bounced violently as it hit. He felt the bed try to throw him off, but the sheets trapped him and slapped him back down onto the mattress, which was when the human-shaped former-streak began to bounce. Harry struggled against the sheets as the owner of the face that had woken him began to bounce in a blue counterpart to the red.

"_FOOD!_" Came an echoing call from downstairs.

Both streaks stopped long enough for Harry to get a glimpse of the two girls he had seen wave at him from the portrait the night before. He was reminded of lions he had seen the day before, sitting patiently, heads tracking towards the direction the call had come from.

"Fooood," both said in a hypnotic drone, giving the word several added syllables. Then they were twin streaks once more and Harry was alone.

"Met the twins, have you?" Allie's head peeked into his room.

"Is that what happened?" Harry asked.

"Better get up and get downstairs before they eat everything. I'll warn you in advance, the twins have zero table manners in the morning." She paused and her face grew thoughtful, "at least they didn't the last time I was around for breakfast."

"What do I wear?" Harry asked.

"There should be some robes in the closet," Allie gestured. "Just pull on something that fits reasonably."

Harry struggled out of the tangled sheets and closed the door. He set about making the bed first, then opened the closet. There were a couple of heavy coats and half a dozen cloaks. The rest were…robes he supposed, in various sizes and colors. He settled for pulling some fairly simple black robes over his head. They were a bit long and he had to hold them up to keep from tripping on them, but they seemed to do just fine.

He walked into the dinning room. Unlike Allie's apartment there were no magical writings scrawled across every surface. Instead it seemed…normal. Normal-normal, not the magazine-picture version of 'normal' that his Aunt insisted on, with only a very few (and extremely odd) things to suggest the family that lived in the house was anything but. The pictures were, by far, the least of these.

The twins were going through a stack of pancakes with a voracious haste that reminded Harry briefly of the tank of feeding piranhas from the day before. He managed to take a better look at Mr. Patil now that he wasn't half-asleep. He was a tall man with dark skin and an absolutely magnificent beard.

Across from him sat a woman in blue robes. She had a darkly tanned face, though lighter than her husband's swarthy look, with long black hair and a red dot on her forehead. Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile when she noticed him.

"Ah, Mister Potter," Mr. Patil said. "So good of you to join us, the girls have not yet managed to consume all of breakfast, as such there are still pancakes left for you."

Both girls stopped eating and stared at Harry.

"Hello," the one in blue said as her sister turned and glared at Allie.

"You could have warned us," she said accusingly.

"Sorry," Allie said, not sounding sorry at all.

"My girls, Padma, and her sister Parvati," Mr. Patil said warmly, indicating the blue and red former-blurs in turn. "They start at Hogwarts this year; and this is my wife, Anjuli."

"Ma'am," Harry said, at a loss for what he was supposed to do. Breakfast for him was usually a piece of dry toast or two, after the Dursleys were done.

"Why are you wearing witches' robes?" Padma asked.

Harry felt his face heat and he glanced back towards the door.

"Harry just learned that magic is real yesterday," Mr. Patil said gently.

"But he's Harry Potter!" Parvati protested. "He has to know about magic!"

"I, uh, was raised, um, mundane?" he asked Allie.

"Muggle," she supplied. "At least that's the term popular in the wizarding world."

"So why do you use 'mundane' or 'null' then?" Harry asked.

"There's a fairly substantial fringe group of people that know that magic exists but aren't part of the wizarding world. For a couple of reasons that's where most of my business is and the term isn't exactly well taken amongst the 'muggles' so I tend to use 'mundanes' to refer to people who don't know magic exists, and 'nulls' for those who do, but have no magical abilities or aptitude." She nodded towards the platters that were rapidly being denuded. "You better eat before the twins eat it all."

Harry nodded and quietly took the empty seat. The platter the pancakes were on slid over to his plate and a trio of pancakes flipped off it and onto his. "Wow," he whispered.

"He really doesn't know about magic," Parvati said with a similar tone of awe.

Padma rolled her eyes at her sister and turned to Harry. "Just tell them what you want."

"Them?" Harry asked.

Padma nodded and looked at a tiny pitcher, "more syrup, please." The tiny silver pitcher hopped over to her plate and deftly drizzled syrup over her pancake. "Thank you," she told it before turning back to Harry. "That one is maple—"

"Daddy tried some on a trip to Canada, and now he has the stuff imported," Parvati said with a frown of disapproval. "It's quite unnatural, pouring tree blood on pancakes, I'd stick with pumpkin syrup if I were you."

"—There're also apricot, blueberry, raspberry, and pumpkin syrup," Padma finished, gesturing to four more pitchers in turn. "And ignore my sister, maple syrup is quite nice. That one over there is whipped cream. You can tell which ones have fruit."

Harry pondered his choices, not only pancakes but toppings too—and served with magic at that. He hesitantly asked for blueberries and whipped cream, and the pancakes disappeared under an onslaught. The twins giggled until Padma reminded him he had to thank them when he had enough.

"If you want some more pancakes dear, to go with your cream and berries, all you have to do is ask," Mrs. Patil said with another quirk of her lips.

Mr. Patil laughed as the twins burst out in giggles, and Allie cracked a small smile.

"Thank you," Harry said. "So, uh, what's Hogwarts?" he asked as he began to eat.

The twins looked at each other. "She didn't even tell him about _Hogwarts_," Parvati whispered in shock and Padma turned a baleful glare at Allie.

"I didn't have time," she protested.

The twins glared at her, then turned to him. "Magic school!" they proclaimed.

"You haven't gotten your acceptance letter yet?" Mr. Patil asked.

"No, sir," Harry said, then quickly added, "Mr. Patil," at the disapproving frown his response had received.

"Better," he nodded. "I can't imagine why not. Usually the letters are very prompt. You should have received one around now. They usually arrive well before the recipients eleventh birthday. Acceptance owls have to be in by August 1st, so commonly students with birthdays in late June, July, and August receive theirs about two or three months before then to give them time to decide."

"Owls?" Harry asked.

"They use owls to send post," Allie said, sounding like she didn't consider it an improvement over normal post. She turned to Mr. Patil, "You don't think someone might have tried for a more…personal invitation?"

"At almost ten at night?" Mr. Patil asked skeptically. "Even Albus has to sleep sometimes, Allie. I know you dislike the man, but in this case don't you think you're letting your feelings cloud your judgment?"

"No," she muttered darkly.

"Albus?" Harry asked.

"Albus Dumbledore," Mr. Patil said. "The Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Slightly mad, über-powerful, beloved of everybody, and ruler of the free world," Allie added.

"Don't talk about Dumbledore like that!" Parvati snapped. "He's a great wizard!"

Allie started to retort, then shook her head. She turned back to Harry, "Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard. Besides being Hogwarts' Headmaster he is also the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and a half-dozen other things."

"Supreme Mugwump?" Harry asked. "And what's a 'Wizengamot'?"

"Supreme Mugwump is sort of like a chairman," Mr. Patil told him. "He's in overall charge. The International Confederation of Wizards is similar to the Muggle's United Nations, only much older."

Harry nodded slowly. He wasn't certain what the United Nations was, but Uncle Vernon had talked about it often enough to know it was either bad, incompetent, or useless, or perhaps all three. Although, considering it was Uncle Vernon, the complete opposite could very well be the case.

"The Wizengamot serves as a legislative body, they are the ones who create the laws of the wizarding world," Mr. Patil continued. "And a number of the wizards and witches in the Wizengamot also serve as the judges that make up the judicial branch. They decide what the laws mean, sit in judgment upon those who are accused of crimes, and the like. This body is also called the Wizengamot. The Chief Warlock is both the Chairman of legislative Wizengamot, and the Chief Justice of the judicial Wizengamot."

"Oh," Harry said, trying to work his way through that. "So he's very important?"

"That's one way of putting it," Allie said.

"He's the greatest wizard ever," Parvati proclaimed.

Padma frowned at her sister, "At least since Merlin."

There was a hissing sound and the fire in the fireplace turned green. A gray, woolly thing appeared, and for a moment Harry thought a goat had somehow managed to wedge itself in the fireplace. Then an arm reached out of the fireplace and a hand uncoiled the longest beard Harry had ever seen. It was even longer and bushier than Mr. Sullivan's was. It was connected to a face with bushy gray eyebrows, madly twinkling blue eyes behind half-moon eyeglasses, and managed to managed to look both twelve and a hundred and twenty years old at the same time.

"Ah, Chirag, I'm glad I caught you at breakfast."

"Speak of the devil and he hears your call," Allie muttered in a low voice that Harry was sure had been pitched so that only he could hear.

"Might I come over?"

Mr. Patil cocked his head to one side, "Business?"

"Of a sort, this is about one of your house-guests," the wizard said.

Mr. Patil's face darkened slightly, but he nodded.

The man's face withdrew from the fireplace, followed by the long beard.

"An," Mr. Patil glanced at his wife.

Harry watched as Mrs. Patil turned and looked at her husband, and had the uncomfortable sensation that there was an entire conversation held in the span of several seconds and an exchanged look.

"I will take the girls," she said simply, rising from the table.

"Do we hafta?" Parvati demanded.

"Yes, you'll have plenty of time to see Albus Dumbledore when you go to Hogwarts," her mother stated, already ushering Padma out of the room.

"Allie," Mr. Patil said as the young teen stood.

She turned and looked at him.

"This is my house, you are my guest."

Harry was pretty sure there was something in that sentence he missed because Allie almost instantly relaxed and nodded. A half-remembered line from a book he had managed to look at in his primary school's library came to mind, "Curiouser and curiouser," he whispered.

"Indeed," Mr. Patil said.

Harry flushed as he realized that he had been over-heard just as the fire once more turned green.

This time a man in purple robes with pink polka-dots and a silver belt stepped out of the fire. It was the same man as before; the beard was now tucked under the belt, as though the accessory was more for holding it in place than holding his robes up. In addition he wore a very elaborate, very pointed, very _orange_ hat.

"Chirag, how wonderful to see you again," the wizard proclaimed. He looked at Allie with a much less friendly look that still seemed to be more than casually polite. As though they were close acquaintances rather than friends. "Miss—"

"Hawthorn," Allie cut him off, her voice colder than a highland blizzard. "Alice Hawthorn."

Harry stared at her. 'Alice' was hardly as bad as she had claimed her real first name to be, and if she and the wizard already knew each other, why did she have to introduce herself? But Dumbledore merely nodded and said "of course."

"And Harry Potter," the wizard continued, "So very good to see you, my dear boy." He didn't laugh, but his tone conveyed one nonetheless.

"And you are, Sir?" Harry asked, jerking his gaze away from Allie.

"Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Allie said, leaving the slightest of pauses between each name. "Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock, Wizengamot; Grand Sorcerer; Order of Merlin, First Class; Discover of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, ad nauseam."

"Don't forget champion at ten-pin bowling," Dumbledore smiled, then turned to Harry. "I usually just go by Albus Dumbledore," he wizard confided. "The rest just goes on for far too long."

"Oh," Harry said.

"I have something for you," Dumbledore said. "Meant to give it to you before now but I've had a bit of trouble finding you."

Allie snorted.

Dumbledore frowned slightly, his eyes drifting towards her, then he looked back at Harry. A thick parchment envelope appeared in his hand and he handed it to Harry.

It was thick, heavy, and had a sort of buttery-smooth creamy texture to it. Written in a spidery hand in luminous green ink was written:

_Harry Potter  
The Patil's dining room  
#7 Hatton Lane  
Birmingham  
West Midlands_

Harry flipped it over to reveal a purple wax seal. Impressed into the wax were a lion, a snake, a badger, and a bird all around a large capital 'H'. He glanced at Dumbledore who was now whistling merrily, and then Allie who didn't look nearly so cheerful, before turning back to the envelope and slit open the seal.

Inside was a brief letter, written in gem-toned purple ink that glowed slightly. Unlike the scrawl on the envelope, the letter was written in a broad, fluid, and very curvy hand. He flipped to the next page and found a supply list: magic books, robes, a cauldron, and a _wand_. He stopped abruptly and shook his head. There was no way the Dursleys were going to pay for this.

"Problem?" Dumbledore asked.

"My Aunt and Uncle," Harry said. "They aren't going to pay for this and I, well, I don't have any—"

"Money?" Dumbledore asked. "Not an issue, I assure you. Your name has been on our rolls since you were born. Your parents were also fairly well off. I understand they left more than sufficient funds to see you through school."

Harry frowned, "My Uncle said they were penniless, died in a car accident."

Dumbledore seemed taken aback. "Did they ever mention magic to you?"

Harry shook his head, "Allie…Alice explained to me last night."

"Indeed," he said, turning to look at the girl in question. "What else did you… explain?"

Allie rolled her eyes, "Magic exists, some general background…why he is famous."

Dumbledore's expression darkened for a moment, then his eyes were twinkling in full force again. "Very well."

"What's Hogwarts like, Allie?" Harry asked.

"I don't go to Hogwarts," Allie said in a toneless voice that made Harry look at his friend in concern.

That stopped him. He had a _friend_. Okay, so they never said the word, but…Allie had rescued—the word wasn't quite right, but Harry decided it would serve for now—him from the Dursleys. She'd introduced him to magic. Taught him how to _do_ his first magic. "Why?" he asked after a moment.

She shrugged, "I don't know." She turned to Dumbledore, "How about it, Headmaster? Why was my request to be admitted as a student denied? Was it because of what I am…or is it because of _who_ I am?"

"As a daughter of a Death Eater," Albus began.

"Please, Lucius Malfoy's brat starts this year," Allie said, crossing her arms. "I can name a dozen offspring of Death Eaters in your school already. That doesn't include—"

"Lucius Malfoy was bewitched and ensorcelled into acting against his better judgment," Dumbledore said sternly. "Your father—"

"Didn't have Malfoy's over-priced lawyers at his trial and he didn't the judges' private coffers with gold," Alice said bluntly.

"Death Eaters?" Harry asked into the oppressive silence that had suddenly filled the room. "I've heard Allie use the term before, and I was wondering…"

"Voldemort's inner circle of lackeys and henchmen," Allie said, not taking her eyes off of Dumbledore.

"Miss Thorne, is it really necessary for—"

"Hawthorne," she grated. "I'm not entitled to the Thorne name yet. As for whether or not it's necessary, I think it is. Better that he goes into your world, _his_ world, knowing as much of what he should have learned a long time ago as he possibly can learn in the time left," she continued, but Dumbledore had turned from her and was once more watching Harry.

Dumbledore ignored her and turned to Harry. "Shall I put you down as having decided to attend?" he asked kindly.

"I haven't made a decision yet," Harry said.

"Is it really so difficult a choice?" he asked, raising one large, bushy eyebrow. "Certainly it's what your parents would have wanted."

Harry thought of a half dozen ways he could have responded to that…most of them would have gotten him stuck in the cupboard under the stairs if the Dursleys had heard it. Or maybe they wouldn't have, they seemed to be the type that would disapprove of magic, maybe even more than they disapproved of him. He bit back the retort and decided to attempt to derail what looked to be the beginnings of an argument. One thing he knew very well was to avoid arguing with an adult. "Mr. Patil, Allie, er, _Alice_, what do you to think I should do?"

Mr. Patil considered him. "You must do what you feel is right, of course," he said after a moment.

"There are other good schools out there," Allie added. "None that are quite as good in this country, perhaps, but if you're willing to look outside the United Kingdom they're out there: Beauxbatons in France and Durmstrang in Latvia, if you insist on staying in Europe. Outside of that your options are more open. The Adelaide Arcane Academy of Australia has a quadruple-A rating, the Salem Wizard's and the Salem Witch's Institutes both are well regarded though the later would require…some work to get you to fulfill the entry requirements, then there is the—"

"Yes, yes, all fine schools, certainly," Dumbledore said smoothly. "But they aren't Hogwarts."

"No, which is why I'm not studying at any of them after you turned me away," Allie said dryly. "The only school my trust will provide funds for is Hogwarts, and since I'm tapping out the allowance that I can draw for help learn how to deal with my…gift." The last was delivered so bitterly that Harry was pretty sure she meant _curse_.

Dumbledore ignored her. "Harry, please, your parents would—"

"My parents," Harry said softly, "are dead, Headmaster. I never knew them. Aside from their names I know next to nothing about them, and it seems that most of what I _do_ know about them is lies, told me by the Dursleys. Unless you know some piece of magic that will bring them back, I doubt I will ever know them. Appealing to me by telling me what they would have wanted isn't scoring any points."

Dumbledore looked at Allie, to which she shrugged. "I didn't exactly have time to explain that magic does have some practical limits, even if it doesn't have a great many theoretical ones."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, as though Harry had made a good point, but he didn't say anything. Instead he seemed to find one of the framed photographs on the wall to be of particular interest, and stared at it intently as he thought.

"Why can't Allie go to Hogwarts?" Harry finally asked when the silence had gotten to oppressive.

"Hmm?" Dumbledore asked. "Ah, my apologies, Harry, I allowed my mind to wander and…" he made a small waving gesture. "Aside from her blood relationship to one of the worst of Lord Voldemort's…followers, Ms. Thorne—"

"_Hawthorn_."

"—also has a natural inclination towards certain magical Talents that are—ill-suited, shall we say?—for a school, and pose a hazard to both herself and those around her," Dumbledore said.

Allie started to say something, but Mr. Patil walked over and set a hand on her shoulder. "Allie, please," he said, "You aren't helping your case."

"I shouldn't _have_ to make a case," Allie said.

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Why do you think I live alone in a one-room flat with wards and runes and sigils chalked on all the walls, the ceiling, and floor?" Allie asked. "The allowance from the Thorne trust is not exactly ungenerous, and wizard gold goes a long way in the mundane world, but private magical instruction tends to be _very_ expensive, especially when it is as…specialized as what I've needed."

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

She shrugged, "It's not your fault, Harry. You don't need to keep apologizing for it."

Harry looked at Mr. Patil, "Do I have to go to this school?"

"As Allie said, there are many fine schools," Mr. Patil began.

"No," Harry scowled. "I mean to this _kind_ of school, magic school."

"Do you not wish to learn magic, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "There are many marvelous things that I am sure that Chirag and Ms. Thorne have not yet had time to tell you of."

Allie gave a small _humph_, but apparently stopped protesting Dumbledore's use of the name.

"Flying brooms, and potions, and spells that are only limited by your own imagination; buildings that are supported entirely by magic, rare and fascinating creatures, items that have been enchanted to be much more than they appear. Such are only the beginnings of the wonders the magical world holds."

Harry bit his lip and looked back and forth between the two adults. Dumbledore seemed pretty insistent on getting him to go to Hogwarts, at the same time Mr. Patil seemed perfectly willing to let him 'make his own choice'. He had heard similar things from teachers before, but there were very few times it had worked out well in the end between Dudley and the Dursleys and even other teachers.

"I want to learn magic," he decided carefully.

Dumbledore smiled, "Excellent. In that case…"

"But," Harry said, turning away from Dumbledore to avoid seeing how he'd take being interrupted. Probably not well, most adults in his experience didn't…but Allie trusted Mr. Patil, and _he_ had said he didn't have to worry inside his house, so Harry was willing to take the chance. "I don't want to have to leave my first real friend."

Allie's expression turned guarded, "That's really nice of you, but—"

"You could teach me," Harry said.

"No," Allie said at the same time Dumbledore said, "That is not a good idea." Both traded looks that Harry couldn't read, then Allie turned back to him. "What I do, Harry—or at least the magic I _know_ how to do—it mostly isn't something that can be taught. The strongest stuff is all natural Talent, and it isn't the kind of thing you want to learn in the first place.

"Oh, I could teach you the sigils, glyphs, and runes. And I could probably teach some ritual magic, things like that, but that would be the extent of it. But there are patterns, harmonies in what I do that are more instinct than learned. If you wanted to learn how to use a wand or other focus tool…" she shook her head.

"What about Mr. Sullivan?" Harry asked.

"Master G _could_ teach you that," Allie allowed, "you heard his offer. At the same time, however, he likes his privacy and you are a very public figure. Once the magical world realizes you are around…"

Harry frowned. Okay, so getting Sullivan to teach him was out. Part of him was disappointed, but he really didn't want what the wizard had offered. Allie couldn't afford to go to another school, but… "What if I pay—"

"No," Allie said, cutting him off.

"You said that my family was well-off, and you said that _your_ family had money, you can pay me back when you can get at it," Harry pressed.

"No," Allie repeated.

Which only left one real option, to Harry's way of thinking.

"Well then, I guess you'll have to come to Hogwarts too."

Allie blinked, "Excuse me?" she asked.

Dumbledore frowned.

"Please?" Harry asked.

Allie frowned. "Why?" she asked before Dumbledore could speak. "I mean, why insist that I come too?"

"I told you," Harry frowned. "You're my first friend."

"I'm sure that is an exaggeration," Dumbledore said.

"No," Harry said flatly. "It's not. My aunt and uncle hate me. My cousin makes sure that nobody wants to be my friend. I'm not allowed to do any better than he is in school."

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure that your relatives do not hate you."

"Fine," Harry said. "They don't _care_ then."

"Of course they care," Dumbledore said.

"They why haven't they reported me missing or something?" Harry asked. "I left them at the zoo yesterday. They probably didn't even notice that I had gone."

"I'm sure that they are quite worried," Dumbledore said absently, pulling out a bowl of candies from his voluminous robes. "Lemon drop?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "Thank you."

Dumbledore popped a sweet in his mouth and proffered the bowl around, Mr. Patil and Allie both turned down the offer.

Harry took a deep breath and continued, "Both hate anything 'abnormal'. I'm sure that both are going to be furious when they find out, if they find out, that I'm going to a magic school."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore sucked on his lemon drop. "They will be quite proud. Most muggle parents are when they find out that they have a child with such a gift."

Harry stared at him for a moment. The idea that the Dursleys would be 'proud' of him was utterly bizarre. Clearly the Headmaster didn't know them…either that or his connection to, well, reality, was much less firm than he seemed to believe. "The Dursleys aren't my parents, though."

That seemed to stump the aged wizard, Harry thought with some satisfaction. He recovered quickly though. "A slip of the tongue," he said. "I meant parents and guardians."

"I want Allie to come too," Harry said, fixing his jaw.

Dumbledore considered him, blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Aside from certain...magical proclivities, let us say; there remain other issues that make her attendance at Hogwarts… problematical. Even if we overlook the identity of her father, there is still the issue of her age."

"So?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Allie said. "I don't have the grounding in basic, focus-oriented magical knowledge to go into my age-year. I'd have to enter in yours."

"That would be the more obvious, yes," Dumbledore said. He paused briefly before continuing. "There is also the problem of her magical core having had several additional years of development. Magical channels have had those same years of stabilization. The channels that focused-based magic depend upon will have atrophied and decayed from lack of development."

"What?" Harry asked.

"He means that it may not be possible for Allie to perform to curriculum-standard in some areas of magic," Mr. Patil said. "Not having the exposure to some fields of magic, practicing their spells, may have caused her magic to…seal those areas off as other areas developed instead."

Dumbledore was looking quite serious now. "I don't believe that Ms. Thorne attending Hogwarts is the wisest course of action, Harry."

"You said I was famous, right Allie?" Harry asked, not looking away from Dumbledore as he spoke. "Do you think other schools would have a problem with you attending as well as me?"

Allie scowled, "I don't want you pulling any strings for me, Harry."

"Still," Dumbledore mused. "I'm sure that with some careful thought, some sort of reasonable accommodation can be reached to minimize the danger to students and disruption in classes." He hummed and nodded to himself, "Yes, yes, something can be worked out. Perhaps the use of…" he wandered off into thought, the twinkle in his eyes slowing.

Mr. Patil cleared his throat noisily.

"Hmm?" Dumbledore asked, turning back to him. "Oh, yes, excuse me, lost in thought. I'm quite certain some accommodation can be reached."

"You said that already," Allie noted dryly.

"So I did, so I did," Dumbledore smiled broadly, eyes once more twinkling away. "Very well, Harry. I will see that your…friend receives an acceptance letter directly." He considered Mr. Patil. "Chirag, would it bother you terribly if Harry were to remain here for the remained of the summer? I will let his Aunt and Uncle know that he'll not be returning until the end of the Hogwarts school year."

"Certainly, we would be honored to have him," Mr. Patil said.

"Very well, Chirag, Harry, Ms. Thorne," he said, nodding to each in turn before walking back to the fireplace. He tossed in a handful of powder and the flames turned green. Harry watched as he stepped into the flames, said something, and disappeared.

"You should not have done that," Allie said, finally disrupting the silence that had filled the room with Dumbledore's departure.

"I thought you'd be happy," Harry frowned.

"If I wanted charity I would have taken Chirag up on his offer to send me to Adelaide or the Center for Mystical Studies in Switzerland, or even Miskatonic Uni, years ago," Allie said shortly.

"Allie, Harry, please," Mr. Patil said. "Allie, I never understood your reluctance to take my offer for help. The Thorne family is not exactly poor; you would have been more than able to pay me back once you came of age if you had insisted on doing so."

"A favor for a favor owed," Allie said. "Nothing I did was worth a loan as extensive as the one you're talking about."

Harry busied himself with another pancake. There was a respect, a level of equality, between the two that he couldn't understand. Allie was two—certainly not more than three—years older than him, yet Mr. Patil was talking to her as though she were an adult. He wondered for a moment if the magical world considered adulthood to come earlier. After a moment he decided it really wasn't important. The Thorne family, it seemed, was pretty well off, only Allie couldn't touch the money (or at least not most of it) until she 'was of age' which meant she wasn't…yet. Then there was the talk of favors and debts, which seemed to have more significance than the Dursleys gave and none of which seemed to revolve around money. Speaking of which…

"How do I pay?" he asked.

The other two people in the room turned to him, and Mr. Patil frowned. "You are my guest, Harry. There is no need for…"

"I think he meant his school supplies," Allie said dryly.

Harry nodded.

Mr. Patil's frown disappeared. "I would imagine the Potters would have a Gringotts vault, perhaps several. They were an old and very influential family."

"Vault?" Harry asked.

"Gringotts is a wizard bank," Allie said, "_the_ wizard bank, actually. It's staffed entirely by goblins. They're nice enough, if you're courteous to them. They aren't human so what they consider to be polite can be a bit…odd. Most wizards and witches look down on them for a variety of rather stupid reasons. Vaults are just what they sound like and each is tied to a key. We can ask one of the managers about that, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"We'll also get some money exchanged, get you some decent mundane wear," Allie said.

"When are you thinking?" Mr. Patil asked.

"I have a job in Westmorland two days from now, might last a week or more," Allie said. "Tomorrow would probably be best, but that means I have to prep today."

"Oh?"

"I was contracted for the old Strickland place."

"What kind of job?" Harry asked.

Allie hesitated.

"Allie's magical talent, Harry," Mr. Patil stepped in smoothly, "while not particularly well received by the magical community at large, and frankly quite dangerous, can be put to some particularly useful uses."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"In this case?" Allie asked. "An old magical residence that's being cleaned up for sale to mundanes has an…infestation. Someone put out some quiet feelers for someone with the talent or training to take care of it."

"Infestation?" Harry asked. "You mean bugs? Magical termites or something?"

"Something like that," Allie said. "Wizarding houses have all sorts of things that need to be chased out before mundanes can move in: doxies, ghosts, gnomes, pixies… If it helps, just think of me as the magical equivalent of the pied piper only without the silly clothes or pipe."

"And that's dangerous?"

"Just picture yourself as a gnome in a nice, old, magical castle—or rather the rose garden since gnomes don't usually live inside—and then one day being told that you have to leave so that a non-magical family can take up residence," Allie said. "It's a lot less 'come follow me' and a lot more 'get out of here or else'."

"I see," Harry said slowly, not sure if he saw at all.

"Probably not, but that's okay," Allie said. She glanced at the wall clock and sighed, "Which means I have to get going if we're going shopping tomorrow."

"Uh, Allie?" Harry asked as she turned to leave.

"Yes?"

"What was that bit about us calling you 'Alice'?" Harry asked. "And his calling you 'Thorne' when you said your name was 'Hawthorn'?"

Allie hesitated. "The Thornes are an old magical family, Harry, really old. They are also strictly matrilineal—inheritance is passed from mothers to daughters."

Harry nodded.

"The Matriarch, the head of the family, and her immediate family uses the 'Thorne' surname, but by family tradition those outside of one generation—children and siblings—have to use an associated name. That is, a family that married into the Thorne's and has since gone extinct with the Thorne's holding the best claim, or one of several traditional names used by cadet branches of the family. 'Hawthorn' has been customarily used by the heir's family for five or six centuries."

"What Allie neglects to mention is that she will become Matriarch upon reaching her majority," Mr. Patil said. "She technically has the right to use the name, but has declined it until then."

"And 'Alice'?" Harry asked after a moment. "I thought your first name was really bad."

"It is," Allie shrugged. "I just like 'Alice' better than the name my mother gave me, and I knew he'd never use my preferred name." She snorted, "He couldn't even use my last name."

She turned to Mr. Patil. "Thanks for helping us out, Chirag."

"It was my pleasure, Allie. Are you sure it is safe for you to return to your flat?"

"Yeah, I'll be all right," she snorted. "By now they've either broken out of the circle and left, or they're willing to be reasonable. If they aren't, I'll break their wands and call the bobbies and let them deal with it. B&E, home invasion, burglary…" she shook her head and tsked twice.

He laughed, "Let us know if you require help."

"I will," she said somberly, then headed for the fireplace and disappeared in the same way Dumbledore had.

"So, uh, I guess I'll take care of dishes," Harry said.

"Nonsense, let the dishes take care of themselves," Mr. Patil said, pulling out his wand. "Watch." He rapped the table smartly with his wand. The dishes shivered. Then the dispensers and a platter with a solitary, somewhat sad-looking, pancake wandered off to put away leftovers. One glass began to hop around the table collecting the silverware, and the plates began to neatly stack themselves for washing.

"Now," he said, drawing Harry's attention away from the self-cleaning table service. "I'm sure you have many questions. Anjuli and the girls will more than willing to help, starting," he grinned, "With finding you some appropriate robes to wear tomorrow."

\|/\|/\|/

Albus stared gloomily into his fireplace. He could feel his plans starting to slip and he had no idea why other than suspect that _she_ was involved, which was nonsense. Her magical signature was quite distinct. Matching it would have been simple if she'd ever visited Harry before. Harry's family not telling him anything about magic had taken him initially by surprise, but on reflection it should not have. Petunia had lost her sister because of it, some fear was perfectly understandable. However, the hostility Harry displayed was surprising, as was the way he'd implied ugly things happening at the Dursley household.

That was nonsense of course, he'd exchanged regular owl-post with Arabella Figg and she hadn't reported anything like the bullying and lack of care by the Dursleys. After all, they left the boy with her, didn't they? Neglectful parents would have shut him up in the house if they'd both needed to be out for some errand or other. And the way he'd said that they wouldn't be worried about him…but he had taken care of that with a short letter to Petunia and added that he'd be spending the summer with the Patils. They were a good wizarding family and perhaps some acclimation to the wizarding world was in order. Petunia would no doubt be upset by Harry missing the last weeks of his muggle school, but she'd recognize the need for Harry to be comfortable in his next scholastic environment.

Which left the girl.

She had had a point about Draco Malfoy, he admitted, he was the son of a Death Eater convicted or not. But he didn't have the power to decline a person because of who their parents were or what they were accused of doing. Besides, the fact that their parents were Death Eaters made it even more imperative that they attend Hogwarts where they could have a safe, stable environment in which to grow and learn. They'd have a better chance of avoiding their parents' mistakes at Hogwarts than they would at Durmstrang which was where most of them would end up if they weren't accepted to Hogwarts.

In a way he'd been fortunate that few of the convicted Death Eaters had had children (or at least openly and acknowledged children) of school age. He could only imagine the flocks of owls he'd receive if he'd had to accept, say, Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter. Even if Ms. Thorne kept quiet about who her father was—not impossible considering her apparent apathy for the man, but he _was_ from a rather prominent pureblood family—it would come out sooner or later. It couldn't _not_ come out. It had been a secret kept too well for its own good, and would be too sensational to keep from the papers.

And then there were her abilities. Most people whose magic expressed itself so specifically had a difficult time, at best, with learning other types of magic and closing magical channels had very little to do with it. People who could wield all kinds of magic so naturally were the source of stories of mages. Trying to teach someone who had so different a way of actually performing magic would likely prove problematical and he could only speculate about the problems with her year-mates in regards to her greater age and the very different way of spell casting.

And none of those worries touched upon what her magic could actually _do_. Hormonal teenagers were hardly the sanest examples of humanity and she could seriously injure or perhaps even kill with a thought. Chirag, who Albus knew thought of her as a daughter or perhaps a favored niece, had been concerned enough to ask her to find somewhere else to live shortly after her eleventh birthday.

Chirag had reported that she had found a master to apprentice herself to, but had never given him a name. Worrying, especially since he had no way of knowing what else her master had taught her besides how to control her magic. Her mind had been blocked to him, not the normal shove of an Occlumens pushing out a Legimancy probe, but it was like looking into a dark well and not being able to see the bottom. He could feel her mind but he couldn't get even the most surface of thoughts, and as far as he could tell she hadn't even reacted to his gentle mind-probe and he was reluctant to put enough power into one so that he could.

He stood. He had told Harry that accommodations could and would be made for his friend, and, truth be told, a part of him had been very proud of the young man for standing up to him for his…friend, that way. But it meant his plans would have to change. He had no way of determining how the girl would influence Harry, but at the same time he had to make sure Harry attended Hogwarts.

The stone would still have to come to Hogwarts, of course. It had gotten too dangerous for it to be left out and exposed, even in someplace secure as Gringotts. Finding the mirror he was looking for was taking more time than he'd anticipated, but the other security measures were almost fully in place. Yes, the stone would be quite safe inside the walls of Hogwarts and Minerva's concerns aside there would only be a very slight risk to the students. It wouldn't be even as big a risk that would come with having Ms. Thorne attend.


	4. Chapter 4: Once and Future

**Chapter 4: Once and Future**

"…generally the hero of a journey story is very young."  
David Guterson

The day of Harry's birthday dawned bright and clear, and for the first time since he had arrived he managed to beat the twins downstairs for breakfast.

The last three months had been the most exciting in his life. Everywhere in the house that he looked there was some piece of magic at work. Dishes that washed themselves and pictures that moved were just the beginning. There was a laundry basket that would sort clothes and load them in the washer, and an ironing board that not only ironed, but folded and sorted as well, and a pair of enchanted little garden gnomes—though not _real_ garden gnomes Parvati insisted—that patrolled the garden and chased rabbits away from the growing carrots. Padma told him that there were some homes where everything was enchanted in some way or another to the point where electronics didn't work anywhere near them, but Harry found it hard to imagine if for no other reason than what would they use for lights? The Patils, and Allie for that matter, preferred a mixed household, using magic where magic was superior (and sometimes not even then) and mundane where magic was not.

Allie had no qualms about admitting that in her case it was due to her magic nullification wards requiring non-magical solutions if she didn't want to have to bathe in cold water. But for the Patils it was largely because Mr. Patil was only second generation magical (Anjuli came from a very long line of Indian witches) and firmly stated that the wizarding wireless couldn't be compared to the quality of mundane programming.

Easily Harry's favorite room in the house was the library. A two-story affair with bookcase-lined walls, a wooden floor, and a large fireplace that always had a log burning (though charmed not to give off heat in the warm summer). There were large red leather armchairs with brass tacks, an old-fashioned desk with a built-in inkwell, and a brass ladder that ran along the shelves so that you could reach the hard-to-reach books and, if you asked politely, would zoom around the room until you became dizzy and had to jump off. It was also Padma's favorite room and while Harry read about the magical world she would often curl up in another chair with a dusty old spellbook or a muggle fantasy novel—her opinion, which Harry quickly came to share, was that since the muggles didn't know what they were talking about they were free to be much more creative than mere reality would otherwise allow. Parvati—whose tastes ran towards old stories about Merlin and other magical heroes—tended to take her current book of choice to one of the upper limbs of a mammoth old oak tree in the back yard.

Reading wasn't the twins' only shared interest, but, like most of their interests, Harry quickly discovered that they tended to go about them very differently. Shortly after Allie left they had endeavored to teach him wizard chess which, as far as Harry could tell, was just like muggle chess only the pieces moved, talked back at you, and bashed each other into pieces but would quickly pull themselves back together in time for the next game. Padma played a dizzying game of maneuver that would leave him confused about just what was the real attack, while Parvati's strategy usually came down to 'I attack it with my horsies'. He was privately certain that this wasn't actually the way the game was meant to be played, but it proved effective enough against Padma's often baffling strategies.

They also, he learned almost as quickly, both had an extensive list of cosmetic spells they were waiting to practice with (and their mother had apparently given up trying to talk them out of if dinner conversations were anything to go by); but where Padma's contained mostly glamours and complex illusions, Parvati seemed to have a near-endless supply of simpler (and more specific) charms. And, much to Harry's dismay, neither of them had tried to disguise their interest in the young wizard who had come to live with him.

It had taken Padma only a few days of asking occasional questions to ferret out his home life (unpleasant), what he knew of the magical world (very little), and what he knew about Allie (not much more). But where Padma had asked, Parvati had spent almost a solid week watching him. To Harry it was uncomfortably similar to what Dudley and his friends had done while 'Harry Hunting', but aside from watching him she never actually did anything and after a while he learned to ignore it. When they had friends over, however, both would often spends hours huddled together giggling which never failed to produce a feeling of impending doom.

If Harry had expected to be left alone to sit in the library and read he'd been sorely mistaken. While it was true that he hadn't had to attend his mundane primary school anymore he quickly found himself being tutored in a number of subjects. From the twins there was Parvati's endless exposé on what robes were in fashion and Padma's recital of great wizarding events of the past century. When he managed to get away from them Mrs. Patil had insisted that she teach him the rudiments of Latin—which formed the backbone of the incantations for most of the more common spells—and Mr. Patil would often engage him in the evening by telling him about the magical world.

Finally, the breakfast dishes had cleared themselves away and Harry and the Patils had lined up to use the floo when Allie came through the fireplace. She was still pale—even Harry had darkened somewhat—and her denim jacket had been replaced with a long robe-like duster similar to the one Mr. Sullivan had worn, though her t-shirt still promoted a muggle band, but otherwise she looked the same.

"Allie, you made it!" Harry said.

"Told you I would, didn't I?" she asked.

"Well, yes but—"

"But you didn't believe me," Allie said.

Harry looked away. "Sorry."

"You know what, Harry? I'm too happy today to be brought down by you," she said with a teasing smirk. "I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm getting my first wand, and later today there's going to be _cake_. You can stay here and mope through your birthday if you want, the rest of us will eat the cake for you."

"No you won't!" Harry said.

"What are you waiting for then?" she asked as the twins darted past and made for the fireplace. Their father stopped them with a smile and motioned for Harry.

Harry waited for Ms. Patil to go through first and then grabbed a handful of floo powder from the small pot and tossed it in the fire. "Diagon Alley!"

\|/\|/\|/

Harry fell out of the fireplace into a pub that looked as though it had seen better days. He revised his initial impression as he struggled back to his feet and dusted black soot from the 'Potter'-green robes that he had bought the day after he'd come to live with the Patils. Merely saying that the pub had seen better days was giving it far too much credit. Three steps past being condemned would be much more accurate, he decided. There was a trio of old women sipping sherry from tiny glasses that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in at least a decade, a man in a corner smoking from a pipe that was far too long and issued pea green fumes, and the bartender bore a distinct similarity to a walnut.

The fire flared green behind him and Harry stepped out of the way of the red and blue streaks of, respectively, Parvati and Padma. Both, despite the very obvious momentum that they carried through the fireplace with them, somehow managed to stay on their feet. Mr. Patil followed a moment later at a much more sedate speed.

"Are we all here then?" he asked glancing around after managing to corral both of the twins.

"Allie's not," Harry said just as the door of the pub opened.

A silver bell, unconnected to the door, tinkled a merry little tune as Allie walked into the pub followed by Mrs. Patil.

"Chirag," the bartender said, reaching for a glass. "Can I get you your usual?"

"Not today, Tom," Mr. Patil said. "We're just passing through, have a little shopping to take care of."

"Of course, of course," Tom said. "Hogwarts. It's that time again." He paused and peered at Allie and frowned slightly, "I didn't know you had an older daughter…"

"Friend of the family," Allie said.

Tom nodded and his gaze slide over to Harry, and fumbled the glass he was vainly trying to polish clean. "Sweet and Merciful Merlin," he said, leaning down over the bar as he peered at Harry. "Is this—can this be—?"

The bar went deathly silent.

"Why bless my soul, it is," the bartender said. "Harry Potter…what an honor."

He fumbled and a glass, an actually _clean_ glass, almost fell to the floor before he recovered it. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," he said, seizing Harry's hands with his and pumping furiously over the bar while somehow managing to maintain control of the glass. "Let me get you something, on the house of course."

"We really can't," Mr. Patil began.

But it was too late. Harry never did get the drink Tom offered, but he was inundated by everyone else in the pub. A small man in a purple top hat that he vaguely remembered from one time that Aunt Petunia took him shopping, a rather large woman in yellow robes who kept coming back for a second handshake.

A young man with skin so pale it had a blue cast from the blood vessels beneath it stepped forward.

"Ah, Professor Quirrell," Mr. Patil said. "Harry, girls, Professor Quirrell will be one of your professors."

"M-Mister P-P-Potter," Quirrell said, taking Harry's hand in a death grip. "I c-can't say how p-p-pleased I am t-to m-meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor?" Harry asked.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Quirrel shivered slightly, as though thinking of it was something he would very rather not do. "N-not that you need it m-much, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously, his eyes flicking around and fixing on Allie.

Allie stared back at him, not at all amused, and her head cocked to one side in thought. "Fascinating," she murmured softly.

Quirrell jerked his eyes away from her, "G-getting all of y-your e-e-equipment, then?" he asked. "I-I've g-got to pick up a new b-book on v-v-va _vampires_—" he expelled the word in a rush, "—myself." He looked terrified at the thought.

Harry saw Allie smile, and heard her ask: "Professor, might I get your opinion about…"

But the others wouldn't let Quirrell monopolize his time, Professor or not, and exactly what Allie was asking for an opinion on was lost in a crowd that eventually took her, all four of the Patils, and almost ten minutes to finally break him free of.

"What was that?" Harry asked as they walked out the backdoor of the pub.

"Your adoring public," Allie said with a sneer directed back towards the closed door. She shook her head, "I did tell you that you were famous, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but…" he looked back at the door. "Is _everyone_ going to be like that?"

"Probably," Allie said with a shrug. "Most of them at any rate."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered as the twins giggled. He looked around the alley that Mr. Patil had led them into. It was so old that it used actual paving stones instead of the asphalt that he expected of roads. The stones were badly worn, and weeds poked up, giving each stone its own frayed boarder of green. A pair of battered trashcans sat against the far wall of brick that was as ancient as the paving stones.

"Is Professor, uh, Quirrell always so nervous?" Harry asked as they walked down the alley.

"Yes, poor man," Mr. Patil said. "I was on the Board—"

"The Board?" Harry asked, then flushed as he realized he had interrupted.

"The Board of Governors of Hogwarts," Mr. Patil said. "Eight of the positions are hereditary, held by various families. The other four posts serve seven years and are elected by members of the alumni organization. I actually left the Board not two weeks ago.

"Professor Quirrell was an outstanding teacher, when he stuck to books." His thoughtful expression changed into a slight, worried frown, "he went on sabbatical the year before last to pick up some first-hand experience. They say he got in trouble with a vampire, and then there was that business with a hag…he hasn't been the same since. He's scared of his subject, scared of his students," Mr. Patil shook his head, "he spent a year holding the Muggle Studies post while Professor Burbage did some fieldwork."

"Muggle Studies?" Harry asked. He didn't recall seeing any textbooks that looked like they would be useful in such a class.

"It's an elective, one of several you can start taking in your third year," Mr. Patil said. He looked back at the pub and frowned, "It was hoped that the time in the normally sedate posting would help him, but if anything he looks more nervous than he did at the start of last year. I'm afraid the Curse strikes again. I do hope that Dumbledore manages to find someone competent next year."

"The Curse?" Harry asked, but Mr. Patil was deep in thought and did not reply so Harry turned to Allie.

"Why didn't you use the floo?" Harry asked Allie as Mr. Patil headed down the alley to the far wall.

"The Leaky Cauldron floo hates me," Allie said. "Mrs. Patil side-along apparated me to the Leaky Cauldron." She grimaced.

"It hates you?" Harry repeated.

"It does, it really does," Padma said.

Her sister nodded in agreement, "There was one time when Mum asked her to help carry potion ingredients home and—"

"—_and _we agreed that incident was never to be spoken of," Allie cut Parvati off. "We all remember what happened last time it was spoken of, don't we?"

Parvati turned pale and suddenly became very interested in the cobblestones.

"Never been through the Leaky Cauldron entrance?" Allie asked Harry.

Harry shook his head as Mr. Patil walked up to the wall and pulled out his wand. "Last time we side-along apparated." He frowned, "That was really…weird."

"That's one word for it, I suppose."

"Three up," Mr. Patil said out loud as he tapped the bricks with the wand, "And two over." He tapped the wall three times with his wand.

For a moment nothing happened. The first brick folded back, then two more, then bricks were folding and sliding too quickly to keep track of. In moments the wall had transformed into a magnificent archway that soared overhead, and led out into a twisting, bending, cobblestone alley.

"Welcome, to Diagon Alley," Mr. Patil said as Allie reached back and flicked the hood of her coat up over her head.

Harry had only been in Diagon Alley briefly to draw some money and purchase a few robes. Even then most of his shopping had been in the mundane part of London. His recollection was of a few shops crammed together and a narrow space filled with people.

This entrance was perched slightly above the main level of the alley so that you could see down it despite its crookedness until the turn after a large white building he had completely missed seeing on his last trip to the alley. Everywhere Harry looked there were shops, carts where there wasn't room for shops, and throngs of people winding through wherever there wasn't a shop or room for a cart. There was a cauldron shop with cauldrons in scores of sizes and shapes and dozens of different metals, all for a hundred different purposes or more. A shop on the left featured a large eye painted in glowing pink paint on frosted glass, and several large stacks of boxes marked Crystal Balls in 10-, 12-, 14-, and 16-pound weights were out front with a cat perched lazily on top of the tallest stack.

A woman walked out of an apothecary right in front of them, muttering, "Dragon's liver, a galleon an ounce, they're mad…"

There was soft hooting coming from a low, dark building. Boys were clustered around a shop selling brooms. Everywhere Harry looked there were piles of books and scrolls, stacked barrels of newt eyes and bat wool, robes hung in the window of one shop, and piles of trunks were in the one next to it.

Mr. Patil hurried them up the street to a building, taller and straighter than the others, and made of white stone that gleamed in the morning sunlight. A short creature—a full head shorter than Harry—dressed in a scarlet and gold uniform with a dark, swarthy face, and a long, twisting beard, pulled open a burnished bronze door.

Harry nodded politely to the goblin, noting fingers and toes that were much too long. The creature smiled, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and bowed back to Harry. Harry glanced at Allie who had also nodded, though a short, curt, nod, at the creature.

"Goblins," she muttered admiringly as they were confronted with a second set of doors.

Harry looked up. They were broad and high, though smaller than the enormous outer doors, and made of silver. A short poem was burned into the metal, and seemed to be a warning against theft.

"You'd have to be pretty stupid to try and rob this place," Allie said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Goblins," she repeated. "And magic," she nodded at the doors as they were pulled open by two more goblins. "That's a kind of ward: a contract too, for that matter. You read it, you give it power. It forms a magical contact of sorts between you and the goblins. Lots of wizards and witches use this place; every time they come in they read it, most of them. Each time it grows a little stronger. After a couple of hundred years…"

She shrugged. "Not only is it a warding and a contract, but the thing also invokes Guest Laws by welcoming you as a stranger _and_ it lays out a specific condition of guest-rights."

Her voice trailed off as Harry turned his attention to Gringotts. They were in a large marble hall. Marble columns held up the ceiling far above him. A long, high counter made of expensive woods formed a long U-shape down the length of the room behind which sat goblins; goblins counting gleaming metal coins, goblins writing in large, thick books, goblins measuring bars of metal on brass scales, or peering through eye-pieces at glittering gems.

Mr. Patil led them to a free goblin at the counter.

"Yes?" the goblin asked in a low voice with a slight sibilant accent.

"We're here to make some withdrawals," Mr. Patil said. "The Patil Vault, Harry Potter's Vault, and—"

"Allison Boxthorn's vault," Allie interjected.

Harry looked at her, "Out of curiosity, how many names do you have?"

"Not here," she said, nodding to the wizards and witches around them.

Harry nodded warily.

"Do you have your keys, Sir? Ma'am?"

Mr. Patil produced two small bronze keys. "Dumbledore fire-called early this morning to give me yours, Harry," he said, turning to Harry.

Allie produced a similar key and handed it to the goblin.

The goblin peered closely at the keys Mr. Patil had given him, then nodded and handed them back, "Very well, these are in order." He picked up Allie's key and peered at it, then he peered at Allie for a moment and frowned slightly. He stroked the key, almost petting it, with a solitary finger. He finally nodded, "Very well, Ms. Boxthorn." He turned back to Mr. Patil. "I will have a goblin take you down," he paused. "The carts only hold four."

"Harry can come down with me," Allie said.

Mr. Patil nodded.

"Dropcleft, Griphook, take these people down to their vaults," the goblin said as two more goblins appeared at their elbows.

"This way," one said, leading them to a door.

Harry wasn't sure what he expected to see, but the narrow stone corridor wasn't it. It sloped downward, lit by torches in iron brackets on the walls. The air became damp, and then the passage widened as it came to a stop. There were dark holes in the walls to the left and right, and what seemed to be a set of narrow railway tracks connected the two. One of the goblins—Griphook, he thought—whistled and a pair of carts came zooming out of the right-hand passage.

Allie led him to the one in back.

"Keep your arms, legs, and any other body parts you wish to remain attached, inside the cart," Griphook said.

"What does he mean, 'attached'?" Harry asked. Since he had wanted some money changed the last time the entire transaction had been completed at one of the counters and he hadn't needed to go down to the vaults.

"Just what it sounds like," Allie said. "I suggest you hang on," she added, grabbing a bar on the back of the front seats.

Harry was about to ask her why, when his questioned was answered. Both carts hurtled into the tunnel so quickly that Harry was slammed back into his seat. They started a sharp left turn that was as much _down_ as it was _left_, and only Allie sitting next to Harry kept him from pitching out. Then they were hurtling straight again, more tracks branching off of theirs as the two carts hurtled along. Left, right, right left, left, middle path, too quickly for Harry to keep track and the Patil's cart in front zoomed up as the track climbed and it shifted in time for their cart to go plummeting down instead. They passed over an underground lake that glowed faintly blue, its surface as smooth as glass.

The cart slammed to a halt in front of a small alcove in the passage wall. Inside the alcove was a metal door with a single keyhole in the center. Griphook hopped out of the cart and walked over to the vault door. "Your key, sir," he said to Harry.

Harry climbed out of the cart, followed by Allie. He pulled his new key out of his robes and handed it to the goblin.

Griphook took it and placed it in the lock, then twisted it once to the right and the vault door popped out into the alcove and inch or two. For a moment nothing happened, then with a hissing sound venomous green smoke poured from the edges of the vault. Griphook stepped back, "A quarter turn to the left, if you please, Mr. Potter."

Harry walked up to the door and pulled on the key, it was stuck fast.

"A quarter turn to the _left_," the goblin repeated testily.

Harry turned the key and the door sank back into its former position. Then, with a grinding sound, it rolled out of sight to the left. For a moment the vault was concealed in darkness. Then a gentle glow illuminated the room. He didn't know how much the mounds of gold and silver coins were worth, but he didn't need to. There were so many of them that he knew that whatever their value he was rich.

"The silver ones are Sickles, seventeen of them make a Galleon, those are the gold ones," Allie said. "The bronze ones are Knuts, twenty-nine of them to a Sickle. It's easy enough, once you memorize it."

"Can we talk now?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Allie said, producing a bag for him.

"So what's your real name?" Harry asked when she didn't say anything more. He bent and scooped some money into the bag. "Alice Hawthorn or Allison Boxthorn?"

"If you mean, which is the name I was born with, then neither," Allie said. "I used Hawthorne growing up since my mother was the Thorne heir. Technically, I mean according to the House of Thorne's Charter, I could use it because I've been the heir since her death, but Granny-dearest and I really do not get along and only stupid people deliberately antagonize the Mistress of Thornes.

"I use Rune Thornberry for my business dealings, since it isn't one of the names the Thorne cadet branches use and I'd just as soon not have people link my job and talents to me and my family. I used Andrea Brickle in the mundane world until, well, let's just say that the mundanes think she's dead. The goblins could care less about what name you want to use—in fact you don't even _need_ to give them a name if you don't want to—but I found it easier to just use one vault thus Allison Boxthorn. But since Hogwarts was one of the things I can actually tap my trust funds for I can use the old Hawthorn family vault…" she shrugged.

"And that's legal?" Harry asked, then added as he lifted the bag, "Do you think this is enough?"

Allie shrugged, "It's a gray area. The goblins, as I said, don't care. I'm sure the muggles have some law against it if they knew. The wizarding world for the most part couldn't care less." She glanced at the bulging money bag. "Yeah, I'd say that'll last you a while."

"So what are you going to use at Hogwarts?" Harry asked as they went back to the cart.

"Something Blackthorn, I think," Allie said. "'Allie' is a diminutive of my real first name which is just as well, and Dumbledore knows me as Blackthorn."

"Then why did you use Hawthorne?"

"I panicked," she said tightly. "How old a family is and how long it's been magical are…important in some circles. It used to be that the Thorne's were regarded with a considerable amount of respect…and fear. When I found out he was coming I blanked so I threw out the most impressive legal identity I have and in doing so told him that I was the next Lady of Thornes, though I'd be surprised if he didn't know that already."

She shook her head. "Anyway, I need to come up with yet another first name it seems."

"Alice?" Harry suggested as they headed back to the cart.

Allie made a face. "I never really cared for that name, and as I said, I like to keep my identities separate. What would you think of Alexandria?"

"Isn't that a city?" Harry asked.

Allie shrugged as she climbed in.

"What about Allison?" he asked as he joined her, "I like that one."

Allie shook her head. "Elissa was fairly commonly among the Blackthorns back when they were a distinct family, if I remember correctly. What do you think?"

How was he supposed to respond to that, Harry wondered. "It sounds nice enough," he said with an awkward shrug.

"Okay, I'll probably use that then," she said as Griphook entered the cart again, and once more it took off down the tracks.

"What about the Potters?" Harry asked over the rushing of the wind.

"What do you want to know?" Allie asked.

"Um, history, I guess."

"Old family, ten, eleven hundred years old," she said. "I'm not sure if they actually pre-date the Norman invasion but that's around the time they really started to grow into prominence. Historically they weren't so much against dark magic as they were against the irresponsible use of magic, a distinction that is lost on most people today and a policy that shifted in the last couple centuries. They are very prominent in light circles. They tend to produce powerful wizards and witches, not Merlin-powerful, but definitely in the upper half. They are known for their fair-play and honesty, but tended to support a traditional line."

"Wow, all that?" Harry asked.

Allie shrugged. "I know something about most of the really old wizarding families. It was more or less expected of me. But it's not something I'm expert in. There are some families where being able to recite your entire lineage—and all of their major accomplishments—is practically mandatory, along with memorizing the highlights of all the other old families."

"What?" Harry asked as she fell silent.

"My father's family was one of them, the lineage-obsessed families, I mean. I never got the whole story but I know that they were prominent supporters of dark magic, and they liked Voldemort's anti-mundane and mundane-born stance."

"And he was captured and thrown in prison," Harry said.

"That came later," she said. "Personally I don't think he got half of what he deserved, but then, I'm biased."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, if he's your _father_."

Allie looked at him for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. "Harry…sometimes family can be the most wonderful thing…and other times it can be a person's living hell. The man had no concept of responsibility, he broke his oaths more than once, he killed a lot of people, and in the end he was stupid enough to do it front of witnesses that couldn't be killed or memory-wiped or bought off. He more than deserved his life-sentence in Azkaban, but maybe I could have forgiven him all of that. But along the way he broke my mother's heart and I had to watch as she wasted away and died.

"So as it is…" she shrugged, "Of course, if he ever gets out, I'll kill him."

"I…um, I'm sorry?" Harry asked, not quite sure how to respond. It was hard trying to imagine hating a parent so much that he'd want to kill them.

Allie didn't respond as they zoomed through twisting tunnels that all looked the same, one time a cart zoomed past on another track going back the way they had come…except that the track was on the ceiling.

"Was that cart on the ceiling?" Harry asked.

"No," Griphook turned and flashed pointy teeth at them in what might generously be called a smile. "The surface is that way," he gestured at the track flashing past beneath them.

"Oh," Harry said rather softly as the cart stopped in front of another vault.

"As I said, you'd have to be crazy to rob this place," Allie muttered.

They got out, and Allie handed her key to the Griphook. He took it and slid it into the lock, and Allie twisted it open.

"If you don't mind my asking," Harry said, noticing that Allie's vault was significantly less full than his, and most of what she had were the silver and bronze coins but she did have at least several dozen of the gold galleons too. "Why is it that you put our keys into the vault locks rather than having us do it for ourselves, er, Mr. Griphook?"

"Just Griphook," the goblin stated. "We do not use your human titles."

"Griphook, then," Harry said.

"Security," Griphook said.

"He does not understand, Griphook," Allie said.

"Not many do," Griphook said with a toothy smile, leading them back to the cart.

Once more they went zooming along the tracks that seemed to go every which way except towards the surface. Harry saw a flash of orange down a side tunnel with a brief rush of heat that was gone as quickly as they had past it.

"Was that a—"

"Dragon?" Allie finished for him.

"Security," Griphook repeated.

"Um," Harry wanted to ask Allie about her exchange with Griphook, but with the goblin sitting right in front of them…

"Ask," Griphook said.

"Excuse me?"

"You are ignorant, but not so arrogant as to revel in your ignorance. Ask."

"What do you want to know, Harry?" Allie asked.

"Um…well, it seemed that you and Griphook were saying one thing, but meaning something other than what I heard."

"Goblins have their own culture, Harry," Allie told him. "Older than most human cultures, in fact. I think I told you that the magical community likes to stick to itself?"

Harry nodded, and when he realized that she hadn't seen it because of the jerking of the cart he added: "Yes, you have."

"Well, the Ministry of Magic is run by humans, and it, or at least some of those inside it at least, regard non-humans the same way it regards mundane humans. The ones that it doesn't regard as merely being 'beneath' them it regards as worse. Most wizards and witches share that attitude."

"You've studied their culture?" Harry asked.

"I know enough to do be polite while doing business," Allie said. "A half-dozen phrases and a few old customs, nothing more."

"Which is more than most wizards or witches know," Griphook said.

"So, security…what happens if a witch or wizard puts their key in?" Harry asked.

"The same thing if they tried to access a vault that they weren't authorized to use," Griphook said. "They get sucked inside."

"And then what…you come and take them into custody?"

Griphook twisted in his seat so that he could stare at Harry and grinned nastily. "Eventually."

\|/\|/\|/

The Patils were waiting for them when they returned to Gringotts proper. With them was the largest person Harry had ever seen. He had to be at least ten feet tall, and was broader than Harry was tall.

"Harry," Mrs. Patil called, noticing them as they approached. "Harry, this Rubeus Hagrid. He's the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

"'Arry!" the giant man said, his ham-like hand swallowing Harry's whole as he pumped Harry's arm. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," he confided. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked.

"Did I know yer parents?" Hagrid asked. "'_Course_ I knew yer parents. _Everyone_ knew yer parents. Me? I was the one tha' found you and pulled you out of yer house after, well, You-Know-Who killed 'em."

"You-Know-Who?" Harry asked. "You mean Voldemort?"

Mrs. Patil hissed and Hagrid seemed to whimper slightly as he looked wildly around. Mr. Patil's lips were pressed into a vaguely disapproving, look. Allie, on the other hand, gave one of her not-quite smirks.

"You said his name." Parvati looked impressed.

Her sister looked very disapproving. "Daddy won't let us."

"I should say not," Hagrid said. "And yeh should know not to say his name."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because the Ministry didn't bother to finish the job and a lot of his followers still walk free," Allie said. "And because ten years after he bit the big one people are still scared of him." She smiled, "And they should be scared, 'cause nobody ever found a body."

"Allie," Mr. Patil said, making her name a warning.

Hagrid frowned, at her. "'S'not really yer place ter be talkin' 'bout tha', Allie."

"I thought you didn't agree with them," Allie nodded towards the witches and wizards going about their business.

"I don'," Hagrid said. "Don' mean I go startin' a panic neither."

"But," Harry began, "if he's gone, then why…" he shrugged, unsure how to finish his question.

"Are people still afraid to speak his name?" Mr. Patil asked. "They do not speak it because he was so terrible that almost ten years after his death they are still afraid to speak it for fear that he will hear his name whispered on the wind and come for them."

"Oh," Harry said softly.

"So what are you doin' in the Alley, Allie?" Hagrid seemed as amused by the feeble joke as he was eager to change the topic, and Allie gave a sigh of long-suffering patience.

"I'm starting this year, Hagrid," she said softly. "I'm finally going to Hogwarts."

"Tha's _great_ news, Allie!" Hagrid said in a loud voice. "I though', I mean—"

"I know," Allie said. "Still…it _is_ good news, Hagrid."

"It was the righ' thing ter do," Hagrid said. "Dumbledore probably jus' needed ter convince the Governors is all."

"Why are you here, Hagrid?" Mrs. Patil asked curiously.

"Secret business for Dumbledore," Hagrid said. "He trusts me. Important business, needs me ter clear ou' a Gringotts' vault fer 'im, Vault 713."

"Then we will delay you no further," Mr. Patil said. "Good day, Rubeus."

"And a fine day ter yeh too!" Hagrid proclaimed. "G'day, Harry," he added, then strolled off towards the counters.

"So where to first?" Harry asked as they left the bank and Hagrid behind them.

"Magic Books," Padma said.

"Wand," Parvati said.

They glared at each other

"Uniforms," Mrs. Patil said, pointing across the street at Madam Milkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The twins traded looks, looked at Harry, and then back at each other. They nodded in agreement, grabbed Harry by his arms, and charged off down the alley.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry remembered Madam Milkin's Robes for all Occasions from the first time he was in the alley, and it was to that store that the twins dragged him inside.

Madam Milkin, a short, frumpy witch, glanced up at them from a blond boy perched on a stool. "Hello, Parvati, Padma, finally ready for Hogwarts?" she asked with a smile that disappeared as she turned back to the boy on the stool without waiting for an answer. "Hold still."

The boy scowled, but turned back from staring at them.

"Adrianna!" the witch called.

A tall witch, much younger than Madam Milkin, in sleek robes a vibrant, eye-watering combination of neon orange and bright lime green, emerged from behind a curtain. "Yes, Madame Milkin?" she asked.

"Take Padma and Parvati and start getting them fitted for Hogwarts robes," Milkin said. She turned to Harry as the twins followed the assistant, "Hogwarts, dear?"

Harry nodded.

"Right then, hop up on that stool," she gestured next to the boy she was fitting and a stool hopped over from a stack.

Harry nervously stepped up onto the stool as a third witch arrived from the back room with a long black robe which she dropped over Harry's head.

"So you are going to Hogwarts too?" the boy asked.

"Yes," Harry said.

"My father is next door buying books, and my mother is up the street looking at wands," the boy said in a bored, nasal, faintly drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't bring one, I've been flying for _ages_. I think I'll bully father into buying me a new one and smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was reminded of Dudley. A smaller, thinner version of Dudley.

"Do _you_ have a broom?" the boy asked.

"No," Harry said.

"Play Quidditch?"

"No," Harry said again.

That was as far as his interest in Harry went, it appeared, because the boy began to talk about himself again. "I do. Father says it would be criminal if I wasn't selected for my house team, and I must say, I agree," the boy smiled in a way that suggested he couldn't imagine anyone disagreeing. "Do you know what house you're going to be in?"

"I wasn't informed in my letter," Harry said. It was a nice, logical answer, that didn't keep him from feeling even stupider.

"No one is told, of course," the boy said. "We aren't even supposed to know until we get there, but _I_ do. I'll be in Slytherin, all our family has been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Uh—" Harry managed, but the boy was less interested in Harry's answer than he was in Harry listening to him.

Hagrid walked by outside in his moleskin coat with a grimy package under one arm.

"Say, look at that man," the boy said.

"That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"Oh, I've heard about him. He's a servant of some kind, isn't he?"

"He's the Gamekeeper," Harry said.

"Exactly," the boy said, as though Harry had agreed with him. "I've heard he's some kind of _savage_—lives in a hut on the grounds, and twice a term gets drunk, tries to do magic, and sets something important on fire."

"I think he's brilliant," Harry said coolly. Yes Hagrid was big, and acted sort of bumpish, but he was apparently a friend of his parents and Mr. Patil and Allie both seemed to like him. Allie didn't seem to call a person 'friend' easily, which made Hagrid even more special.

"Do you?" the boy asked with a slight sneer. "Is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"He's not with me," Harry said tightly. "And my parents are dead."

"Sorry," the boy couldn't have purposely have managed to sound less sorry. "They were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," Harry said.

"I really don't think they should let the other kind in, do you? They just aren't the same. They haven't been brought up with our ways, our history, our traditions. Why, some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts before they get their letters! Can you imagine such a thing? I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Harry was saved by Allie entering the shop, followed by Patils.

Madam Milkin looked up from Harry, "Padma and Parvati are with Adrianna in the back," she said. She turned to Allie, "I can be with you in a moment."

"No hurry," Allie said. "I can wait until my friend is done."

"Hogwarts student?" Madam Milkin asked curiously as she worked on Harry's robes. "Do you need a lengthening or—"

"I will be requiring Hogwarts robes, no house badge," Allie said. "I have yet to be sorted."

Madam Milkin frowned. "You're a little old to be—" she paused, and then asked, "Apprentice sash?"

"Yes, but keep it separate," Allie said. "My schooling over the past several years was non-standard. I am regularizing my education now, but…" she shrugged slightly.

"I understand," Madam Milkin said, though it was clear that she didn't. "What field, dear?"

"Basic-arts, white," Allie said.

Madam Milkin looked up from the piece of parchment she was writing on.

"I didn't move beyond basic arts before this… opportunity occurred," Allie explained. "But border it with whatever color belongs to the combined fields of wards and ritual magic—I think it's periwinkle but I may be wrong, the book I looked in was old and the ICW put out a revised international standard only a few years back. I already have the appropriate insignia."

"Very well," Madam Milkin said. "Will there be anything else?"

Allie nodded, "I am going to require several other robes. Most of my current wardrobe is not suitable to the climate where Hogwarts is and those that I do have are much worn."

"I can have your school robes ready today," Madam Milkin assured her. "But today is so busy that I'm not sure I can get to them."

"Nor would I expect you to. Would two weeks suffice?"

"Perfectly, barring any extraordinary requests, of course."

"Excellent."

"All done with you now," the witch working on the boy next to Harry said.

Harry waited until the boy had left the shop, then turned to Allie. "Apprentice sash?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Allie said Madam Milkin's assistant dropped a robe over her head and began pinning it to the correct length, "A sash that designates apprentice status. Most witches and wizards don't bother with apprentices any more, choosing an education at Hogwarts instead."

"And since you didn't go to Hogwarts," Harry said, "You were apprenticed instead?"

"Exactly," Allie said.

Harry shook his head in exasperation, first the twins, now this. He was rewarded by a pin pricking him in the neck. "Allie, what is Quidditch? I've heard Padma and Parvati talk about it, mostly about players, but I don't…" he hesitated, then shrugged helplessly, wincing as a pin pricked at a shoulder.

"Quidditch is a sport," Allie said. "It's played up in the air on brooms, and is followed, in most of the world, the same way that football is followed in the mundane. There are four balls, six goals, and two teams of seven players each."

"Sounds dangerous," Harry said after Chirag had explained a bit more.

"Eh," Allie said. "I think the last recorded fatality in an official game was more than a hundred years ago. Broken bones, concussions, I understand that those are a lot more common…and every so often a referee disappears and turns up later in the Sahara desert." She frowned in concentration, then shook her head, "and that exhausts my knowledge of the game. Personally I've always favored rugby."

"And Hogwarts houses?"

"There are four, one named for each of Hogwarts' founders," Allie said.

"They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Mr. Patil added. "Students are sorted based upon what qualities each of the Founders prized most. Ravenclaw prized intellect and wit, Hufflepuff preferred loyalty and hard work, Gryffindor prized the brave, and Slytherin the ambitious and cunning."

"And there wasn't a wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," the witch who was working on Allie's robe said. "Or witch, for that matter."

"No?" Allie asked in a tone that Harry would have pegged as 'conversational', only he was pretty sure that Allie didn't _have_ a purely conversational tone.

"Allie," Cherig said.

Allie looked at him and frowned, but she didn't continue.

The rest of the fitting was done in tense silence as Harry wondered once again about what secrets his new friend carried.

\|/\|/\|/

"What was that about?" Harry asked as they left.

"The reason why I live on the fringe of the magical world rather than the mainstream," Allie said. "Well, a symptom of one of the reasons."

Harry started to ask more, but a tall figure, looking much like he thought a vampire would look, emerged from the crowd and would have walked into, or perhaps _over_, him if Allie hadn't pulled him out of the way.

"Watch where you are going, boy," the man said, peering down at Harry. His black robes billowed around him like inky shadows cast by a flickering candle. His pale face was framed by dark hair that hung thick and greasy to his shoulders.

"Professor Snape," Mr. Patil said cheerfully. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I had to arrange for my stocks to be refilled from last year," the man said in a soft, silky voice, "As well as for a few…unique ingredients for my personal stocks."

Mr. Patil's face brightened, "You think you found the answer to that contamination problem that was plaguing your last series of experiments?"

"Perhaps," the Professor allowed. He looked over the children, "You've mentioned your twins, often enough, who's are these?"

"Padma, Parvati, this is Professor Snape, he teaches potions," Mr. Patil said, ignoring the impatient look the man gave him. "Professor, these are—"

"Elissa Blackthorn, sir," Allie interjected. "I will be starting this year."

"A little old, aren't you?" the Professor asked coolly.

"Yes, sir," Allie agreed. "I was apprenticed at an early age, since my Master chose to focus on wards and runes I'm sadly lacking in basic magical arts. With Headmaster Dumbledore's permission I am taking steps to correct that."

"I see…" he turned to Harry, "And you?"

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said.

Something that might have been distaste or disgust flickered across the man's features, and then disappeared again. He started to turn back to Mr. Patil.

"Er, Professor?" Harry asked.

"What is it, Potter?" the man snapped.

"Um, well, my class list of supplies said crystal or glass phials," Harry said. "Which would you recommend?"

Professor Snape stopped, then slowly turned and peered down at Harry from behind a rather long nose. His face a perfectly blank, emotionless, mask. After about half a minute he straightened and tersely said, "Crystal."

"Thank you," Harry said.

Snape grimaced, but gave a very sharp, very short, nod.

"Uh, can you recommend a, er, an apothecary?" Harry asked, working his way around the unfamiliar word.

"Pennyforthe's Potion Provisions," the Potions Professor said. "It is at the end of the alley. It is small and somewhat expensive, but the quality is excellent. I would suggest you ask for his first year potion's supply kit. At least that way you won't lose anything with your socks or get lint in your black beetle eyes." He turned abruptly, his robes whirling about him, and stalked off up the Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Charming fellow," Allie said.

"He can be a bit rigid, but he knows his potions," Mr. Patil said. "One of the youngest Potion Masters in history; absolutely top in his field. I never understood why he decided to teach rather than do private research. He grows on you though, after a while."

Allie glanced at Harry, "Like mold."

Harry stifled a laugh.

Mr. Patil took them to a shop that specialized in trunks. After looking over everything from a set of matching luggage, each with multiple compartments, to a steamer trunk that could hold a not-so-small library's worth of books, Harry settled for a trunk with only one compartment, but was somewhat bigger inside and out with charm on it that made it lighter than normal. Allie proclaimed it a very fine trunk, but declined to buy one of her own.

All four took Professor Snape up on his recommendation for potion supplies in a shop that smelled of dried spices. Small crystal jars were filled with everything from aconite to zebra parts in various states ranging from dried to potted, brined to tainted, and from abraded to whole. Most of the items had multiple versions from different countries or regions. Separate jars were filled with each so that a customer could open and smell the various ingredients, or run them between fingers to test consistency. One entire wall was given over to shelves of jars filled with once-living things in various fluids. Horns, claws, teeth, and feathers hung in bundles on strings from the ceiling, as did bundles of dried herbs. Harry joined the Patil twins in examining silver unicorn horns (21 galleons each), and after asking the wizard behind the counter he bought several small jars of the more commonly used ingredients that weren't part of the first-year potion kit while Allie purchased a small parchment envelope filled with dried pufferfish spines.

"Which just leaves us with wands and books," Mr. Patil said as they left the apothecary.

"Wands," Parvati said.

"Books," Padma returned.

They glared at each other.

"Odds," Parvati said, making a fist.

Both twins shook their fists three times, then Parvati held out two fingers and Padma held out none. Parvati said a rude word, to which her sister stuck out her tongue and then both took off before their parents could respond.

Anjuli shook her head and set off after them.

"We'll go get our wands," Allie told Mr. Patil.

"As you wish," he said. "Meet us at Fortescue's after you are done shopping?"

"Of course," Allie said.

\|/\|/\|/\|/

Allie led him down Diagon Alley to a narrow and shabby shop. A solitary wand rested on a much worn purple pillow in the dusty window, and a peeling sign on the door said that the Ollivanders had been making wands for almost twenty-four hundred years.

Inside the shop wasn't much better. Long shelves, so close together that Harry had a hard time imagining himself, much less an adult, being able to move between them were packed to over-flowing with long, thin boxes. A thick layer of dust covered everything. A bell tinkled somewhere deep in the shelves and stacks of boxes, and aside from a solitary, rather spindly chair, the front area was deserted. Harry felt like he'd walked into a rather strict library…only that wasn't quite it. It was as though the silence was part of the nature of the place, not exactly a rule, but something that no person who walked into the shop would dare even dream of violating.

"Good afternoon."

Harry jumped, Allie, he noticed, did not.

A tall, painfully thin, old man peered down at them. His eyes, behind very round glasses, shimmered like twin little moons in the hallowed gloom of the shop.

"Ah, yes," the man said. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter," it wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday, that she was in my shop buying her first wand. Ten and one quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow, particularly fine for charms work."

Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he could blink, those silvery eyes were creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored mahogany. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—really it is the wand that chooses the wizard, or witch, you know."

Mr. Ollivander had slowly walked towards Harry while saying this, and now leaned so close that Harry could see himself reflected in those shimmering, misty, eyes. One long, pale finger reached out and stroked along his scar. "And that is where…"

He straightened slightly, "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches, yew, phoenix feather core…powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I had known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head, and then, to Harry's immense relief, spied Allie.

"Ms. Hawthorne…I must confess, I never expected you to arrive in my shop again," he said. "As it is, Albus owled me earlier to tell me that he had decided to accept you into Hogwarts. I remember your mother coming in…for both of her wands, actually. The first one was a particularly fine hawthorn wand, I was sorry to hear of its destruction. Her second was rowan, stiff, excellent for defensive magic. Your father—"

"Is best not spoken of," Allie growled. "And it's Blackthorn."

Ollivander paused and raised one nearly non-existent eyebrow, "As you wish." He turned back to Harry and procured a small measuring tape inscribed with silver markings. "Let us start with you, Mr. Potter…" he turned and disappeared into the stacks of wands as the tape began measuring Harry on its own. "Which is your wand hand?" his voice floated from among the shelves as the tape measure measured between Harry's eyes.

"Er, well, I'm right handed," Harry said. Immediately the tape measure began measuring the length of the arm, then elbow to armpit, length from second joint to the tip of his right ring finger…

"Each Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance," Ollivander's voice said. "We use dragon heartstrings, phoenix tail-feathers, and the tail hairs of unicorns. Each wand is unique, as each dragon, unicorn, and phoenix is unique. And you will never get so good results with another wizard's wand."

The tape measure, by this point, was measuring the distance between Harry's nostrils and Mr. Ollivander's voice proclaimed: "That will do." The tape measure flopped limply on the floor as Ollivander emerged with a small stack of boxes.

"Right then, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, pressing a wand into his hand, "Try this one. Beech-wood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a wave."

Harry, feeling rather foolish, waved it around a bit, but Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

"No, no—try this one. Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"

But Harry had barely tried before "Ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches, springy," was forced into his hand, and just as quickly snatched back out.

He tried wand after wand. Some he actually managed to wave, others he barely had time to touch before they were discarded again. The stack of discarded boxes was starting to resemble every other stack of boxes, and Harry wondered briefly as he waved willow and dragon heartstring—twelve inches, bendable—if every other stack of boxes was made from failed wands from a previous person looking for a wand.

"No, no, that won't do at all," as Ollivander reclaimed 'Poplar and unicorn, nine and five-eighths inches, intractable'. He examined Harry for a moment, "Tricky customer, eh?" he asked. "Don't fret, I'll find a wand for you, I always do, you know. Hmm…I wonder," his eyes gleamed speculatively, then he disappeared behind the stacks again and emerged with a rather dusty box.

"An unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather," Ollivander said. "Eleven inches, supple."

Harry took the wand, and felt a warm rush that started at his fingers and flowed up his arm and through him as he held it. After a moment he gave it a swish and a flurry of multi-hued sparks burst from the tip, sending lights dancing against the walls in the dusty shop.

"Curious, very curious," Ollivander said.

Harry looked up from his wand, "What's curious?"

Ollivander fixed Harry with an owl-like stare, "I remember every wand I've sold in this shop, Mr. Potter, every one. As it happens, the phoenix whose tail feather resides in the core of your wand only gave one other feather—just one. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, while its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, You-Know-Who did great things; terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered, not certain he liked Mr Ollivander any more.

"_Hey!_"

Harry heard something flop as he turned around to find Allie giving the tape measure, now coiled up on the floor, a rather dark look.

"Er, yes, you next," Ollivander said, reaching for a box. "Let's see, I think we'll start with ash and dragon heartstring…"

Allie gave the wand a short wave, and the stack of wand boxes holding Harry's rejects was scattered over most of the shop with a small 'boom'.

"Obviously _not_," Ollivander said, reclaiming the wand before anything else could happen.

Harry watched as Allie's stack of discarded wand boxes surpassed his own. With each failed wand Mr. Ollivander seemed to get more and more excited until he nearly seemed to be bouncing.

"Tricky, very tricky," he burbled happily, disappearing once more into the shelves. Despite the piles of boxes the shelves seemed to still be as full as ever. "Let's see…oh, another rare combination," he emerged with another dusty box, "Cypress and phoenix tail feather."

Allie picked it up and waved it, there was a shower of sparks; but they were wane and feeble compared to the blast Harry had managed to produce.

"Very nearly, but not quite," Ollivander hmmed as he took the wand back and examined it minutely. "Occasionally a witch or wizard comes into their magic late and has a great deal of difficulty in finding a suitable wand."

"I didn't get a wand as early as I could have so I have the opposite problem," Allie said.

"Indeed," Ollivander said. "Why wands make the choices they do continue to elude even the brightest of minds. Fortunately, however, the choice is not entirely random. Body size and conformation, heritage, the propensity for certain magics—charms, for example, in the case of your mother, Mr. Potter—innate capacity for magic…"

"That's what the tape measure was measuring?" Harry asked.

"In part, Mr. Potter, in part," Ollivander told him.

"And from these you can tell what kind of wand would be best for a wizard?"

"Most likely to choose a wizard, yes," the wandmkaer replied. "You, Mr. Potter, will find unicorn-hair wands difficult to use, and find those of holly, yew, mistletoe, and perhaps lindenwood, the most responsive."

"And me?" Allie asked.

"If I had one I would be most interested in seeing your reaction to a wand made of _Acacia drepanolobium_," Ollivander told her. "The whistling thorn of east Africa. Alas, I do not. It has never been a favored wood in these parts and I have not had a chance to work with a member of the _Mimosoideae_ before.

"The measure suggested that you would be suited for a yew wand, but we've tried most of those in stock with little indication of success so I see no reason to expect to find a match there. We could try something made of elder next, the measure only very rarely suggests a wand of such wood but there have been a surprising number of matches with it when other wands fail." He paused, and Harry thought that his watery eyes twinkled for a moment. "Say, are you feeling especially daring?"

"Not really," Allie replied, but Ollivander had already darted behind of a shelf of wandboxes that was still, somehow, impossibly full.

"I wonder," Ollivander continued as he came out of a door wedged between two shelves on the right hand-wall that Harry was certain hadn't been there before. In his hands the wandmaker carried a small chest. He placed it on the counter and opened it, and a rack with a dozen wands popped up. "These wands are the work of my godfather, Drosselmeyer."

He paused and cleared his throat, "not that that was his actual name, of course. I called him that because he was my godfather, and was an absolute genius with automatons and clockworks and the like. He used to make the most fantastic toys, all without the aid of magic. He likely inspired the story, but I digress. He was a wandmaker as well, if a rather eccentric one."

Coming from Ollivander Harry thought this was a bit rich, but he didn't say anything as the wandmaker opened the chest and a shelf popped up with little cubbyholes for wandboxes.

"He sent me these recently to evaluate and we just might find a match in here. Now let us see…this one won't do," he said, pulling out one box and setting it aside.

"Why?"

"Phoenix Feather in erumpet horn," Ollivander said. "He was trying to replace wood with ivory, but I fail to grasp his reasoning for using _that_ horn. I can just see it, swirl—" he whipped his hand around as though holding a wand "—jab—" this a fencer's lunge, "—_KABOOM!_" he shouted.

He paused, took in Harry who was watching him intently, and cleared his throat. "As I was saying, it simply won't do." He turned back to the rack of cubbies and ran a finger along the markings. "Now let's see…" he plucked a wand off the rack. "Elder wood and phoenix feather."

Harry could see Allie start to object, but then she warily took the wand and gave it a slight wave.

The side of the shop disappeared in a flash of light and a wall-shattering _KABOOM _that picked Harry up and slammed him down into something hard, before burying him in wand boxes. Aside from his ears which were ringing nothing felt hurt, so Harry reached up and started to brush boxes away until his hand encountered something smooth and hard. He followed it, pushing boxes away until his hand broke the surface and he could gingerly stand up. He tried his best, but he was certain he'd crushed at least a dozen wand boxes.

Allie and Ollivander were both still standing. The former was untouched by the explosion, but Ollivander's hair stuck straight out, and the skin on his face was covered with dark soot.

"Intriguing," Ollivander said, carefully taking the wand back. "It is clearly a very temperamental wand, and it doesn't seem to like you much."

Harry looked over at the wall. There was a very precise, very _large_, seven-sided hole that people were poking their heads into to see what had happened.

Ollivander pulled out a long, thin wand and whipped it at the hole. The air around the hole shimmered briefly before forming a bright purple patch. "Let's see, petrified pine and unicorn tail hair, quite hard."

Allie took the wand and flicked it. Nothing happened.

"Hmm, no," Ollivander said. "Dear Godfather Drosselmeyer had such high hopes for it, but I fear the mineral nature of the wood, that is, the fact that the wood has been replaced by stone, makes it a thaum resistor.

"Perhaps mangrove and the hair of a mermaid—a native of tropical seas, mind you, not our cold, dark, freshwater lakes—purportedly excellent for underwater magic."

Allie had barely touched the wand before the shop began to fill rapidly with water. Only the fact that the patch leaked, Harry was sure, kept them from drowning until Mr. Ollivander was able to get rid of the water by the simply expedient of blasting away his front door.

"No, definitely not," Ollivander said, replacing the wand in the rack after drying Harry and Allie with a flick of his wand. He appeared content to drip on his sodden floor. He paused and considered his front door and Harry turned to look.

The top of a gate was evident near the top of the door frame, either it had been conjured before the door had been blasted, or it was on some kind of automatic release, as a large pile of wand boxes caught up in it hide the entrance from sight.

"Hmmm, I wonder…" Ollivander said. Harry turned back in time to see the wandmaker pluck a wand from the very bottom of the rack. "This one has possibilities. According to the letter he was left with a wand-blank, a piece of prepared wood that is intended to become a wand, that was too short for the core. .

"He ended up taking the remains of a previously failed experiment—an attempt to keep dual wand cores from either separating apart or violently exploding, as would normally be the case, whenever two cores were used. He had the idea that using two woods was the answer."

"Was it?" Harry asked.

"You've heard of Tunguska, of course," Ollivander said.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Or perhaps not," Ollivander said. "Hmm. It seems as though the obliviators were even more successful that I had hoped. It seemed impossible at the time to keep it from the muggles.

"Still, the experiment did give him some practical experience in joining wand-blanks together which would normally be little more than a curiosity piece, but in this case perhaps…" he offered it to Allie.

Allie took it was a grave trepidation, then slowly relaxed. "This one," she said softly as black and silver sparks danced out from the tip. "It's certainly better than the others."

Ollivander hopped and clapped excitedly. "Oh very well done. Dear Godfather Drosselmeyer will be so very happy. You see, he thought it was a failure for so very long. The wood of the shaft is cypress which is why I thought of it, and it has a mistletoe grip. Its oddly metric—twenty-seven centimeters long to be precise—and slightly unbalanced."

"Unbalanced?" Allie asked.

"It has a fwooper feather core," he said in warning, "and is a half-gram heavy on the tip end."

Allie frowned at him for a moment before nodding.

"If you have any problems, any at all, let me know," Ollivander said. "I would dearly love to hear how that wand works for you."

Allie paid for her wand, then Harry gave Ollivander seven galleons for his and the wandmaker bowed them out of his shop.

"What's a fwooper?" Harry asked.

"Some kind of bird, I think," Allie frowned, "its song is supposed to drive people mad. Or maybe it just enchants them into listening to it until they die of starvation or something."

"It feels right, though?" Harry asked as they wandered back up the alley towards the bookstore they'd passed by earlier. "I mean, when I touched mine it felt like I'd just jumped into a pool of warm water, only it wasn't wet, and it felt like I could do _anything_ at all… Did you get that feeling, Allie?"

"Sort of," Allie fingered her wand distractedly. "It feels better than any of the other wands I tried."

Harry was about to inquire further, but she stopped suddenly, and pulled him into an apothecary.

"I suddenly realized I needed something," she told Harry as she bought a small sachet of dried herbs.

"What are those for?" Harry asked as they left the shop.

"I'll explain in a moment," Allie said. "If I remember there was a magical equipment shop between here and Flourish and Blotts."

"Magical equipment?"

"We got scales and the crystal phials earlier, but we still need telescopes," Allie pointed out.

"Oh," Harry said. "I thought that a magical equipment shop would have, well, magical equipment."

Allie gave him a puzzled look. "It is equipment that is clearly used for…wait, did you mean _enchanted_ equipment? Thing that have magic in them like the Patil's dishes?"

"A little more exciting than magical dishes," Harry managed despite his face heating up.

"Oh, they have that too, of course," Allie told him. "In fact, I'm counting on it."

\|/\|/\|/

The magical equipment shop did indeed have telescopes. Fat, squat reflector telescopes and long, skinny refractors. It had telescopes in brass, as well as silver, bronze, and electrum. There were telescopes that had detachable ends that you could put on a shelf or stick to a wall, and when you looked through the eye-piece you could see the room it was in; and telescopes that had tubes that could be bent for seeing around corners. There were telescopes for viewing things at night, and telescope for viewing things in daylight, and even telescopes that could see through clouds. There were telescopes with glass lenses for viewing stars, and telescopes with a variety of crystal lenses for viewing—actually, Harry wasn't sure what they were for viewing, only that the shop had them.

In addition to the telescopes (they each got one that was collapsible and made of brass) there were all the magical devices Harry could have thought of and more. Two entire sets of shelves, each taller than Hagrid, were devoted to silver spindly things that whirred or spun or emitted puffs of colored smoke. There were crystal spheres that contained miniatures of the entire solar system, but with a touch of a wand could show Saturn and the complex array of rings and a multitude of moons, or even just one moon in particular if that's what the viewer wished. There was a teapot that was enchanted to heat water put in it and didn't need tea-leafs or bags to produce tea (hot or iced) on request with a matching silver bowl that could produce sugar, an enchanted flying carpet was rolled in one corner (display purposes only, not to be sold or rode on penalty of persecution by the Ministry of Magic), and an array of magical oil lamps (NO RUBBING). A display case was filled with magical rings, ranging from simple bands of gold to one that seemed carved out of one large diamond, to another with a glittering rainbow-hued gem the size of a chicken egg.

Harry had just finished examining a display case filled with watches with anywhere from one to thirteen hands, but none of which seemed to actually tell time, when Allie bumped into him.

"See anything interesting?" she asked.

"Loads," he said. He gestured at the watches, "I just can't seem to figure out what any of them _do_." Harry turned to her, "what about you?"

"Oh I found what I was looking for," she said with a grin and displayed a small bundle of grayish fur.

"That's magical?" Harry asked skeptically. "It looks like something one of Mrs. Figg's cats dragged in."

"That's exactly what is it supposed to look like," Allie agreed happily. She pulled out the small bundle of herbs and after a moment of prodding, opened the bundle of fur to reveal a small pocket. "Do you remember the cat that was by the cauldron store when we came in?"

"No," Harry said, looking around.

"I meant when we entered the Alley," she said.

Harry shook his head.

"Well, it's been following us," she said as she filled the mouse with the herbs. "There are some spells, really, really advanced spells, that can allow a witch or wizard to possess a living animal. More likely though it is some witch or wizard's familiar with observation charms on it that has been sent out to trail us."

"You mean me," Harry said as Allie placed the last of the herbs inside the fur and sealed the pocket up.

Allie hesitated, but then nodded in agreement. "You."

"Okay, so how do we get rid of it?" Harry asked after a moment.

Allie grinned again, and this time there was something vaguely unsettling about it.

\|/\|/\|/

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfiguration Professor, Double Transfiguration Mastery (Transmogrification and Conjuration), and twice Highlighted Transfiguration Master in _Transfiguration Today_: September, 1969 (for transfiguring—on a drunken dare—a 600-acre dairy farm into a three-day, 32-act music concert with an audience of more than a half million muggles) and June, 1978 (for the switching spell that swapped fifty kilos of bog peat for a similar mass of lunar strata after having a tipple too many at the staff party that had started quite spontaneously at the realization that the Marauders were gone…and incidentally proved both that Alberic Wiffle was wrong and magic could be done outside of the boundaries of Earth's atmosphere, and also that the moon was decidedly _not_ made out of green cheese) was not having a good day.

To be honest that not 'good day' had actually begun more than a month earlier when Albus Dumbledore had pounded on her door on one of the last days of term to tell her that she was in charge until he got back, before disappearing in a flash of phoenix fire. That had been followed by a puzzling conversation the next day when he informed her that he had delivered Harry's letter personally so he could be scratched off the list, and would she kindly make arrangements for two students (instead of the expected one) to start come the fall term. The revelation that the mystery student was the heir to, and arguably the head of, one of the oldest and (in certain circles) most prestigious (not to mention powerful) Pureblood families in England hadn't worried her. No, Minerva had some very fond memories of Charms Mistress Miranda Thorne (Deputy Headmistress, Head of Slytherin).

On the other hand, she was also the child—acknowledged or not (not, in this case)—of one He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's more notorious Death Eaters. She had argued long and hard against accepting those students whose parents had escaped imprisonment, though in the end she'd had little choice but to agree with Albus Dumbledore that providing them with a supportive environment might help them make wiser decisions than their parents.

And then there were her…abilities.

Accepting Remus Lupin had been dangerous enough, not just for him but the other students and the staff as well, but at least in that case measures could be taken. They hadn't been _enough_, of course. As intelligent as James, Remus, poor little Peter and…_Black_ had been at grasping that being animagi would allow them to accompany their friend, they had been remarkably short-sighted when it came to first studying and then actually _using_ that talent.

And the excuses they used! They honestly expected _her_ to not see through 'a prank gone bad' when James Potter showed up in class with hart ears and one of the more impressive racks she had ever seen? And then there had been _him_ with a bloody _tail_ that he couldn't control. And Poor Peter with his, well, that was best not thought about.

Not that the Headmaster had stopped them when she had informed him. No, he had let them go on as they were. First with practicing and perfecting the transformation, and then letting them continue gallivanting across the Forbidden Forest and up and down the streets of Hogsmeade and made her sacrifice a full night's rest once a lunar cycle just to keep an eye on them. If only it had ended there and not with that utterly disgraceful incident with Severus. Taking points was all well and good, but giving them (and more) back to James—not that he hadn't deserved them—in front of the boy like that, and then _threatening _him? Utterly disgraceful, felt ashamed to call herself a Gryffindor. Not a lot that could be done without ruining things for Remus who was really as much a victim as Severus had been, but still.

And then there had been that vampire…just the memory of those years—thankfully well-passed—were enough to make her start shedding.

But neither of those compared to this. Still, Albus had said that precautions would be taken and she fully intended on learning what all of those precautions were, and then adding a few of her own. More than a few if the girl ended up in Gryffindor.

Unfortunately one of those 'precautions' had involved her spending the day in Diagon Alley as a cat following Harry Potter and his…friend. A part of her fully approved of his standing up for someone, especially if she had gotten him away from those muggles who she desperately hoped weren't as bad as she had feared but somehow doubted it. Another part of her, the part that Pomona liked to call her 'inner lioness', wanted to jump at the girl, hissing and spitting and drive her away from Harry.

Minerva resisted the urge. She was, after all, not supposed to be seen and her markings were rather distinct. If she made too much of a commotion she'd be noticed and it was possible that Harry or friend might connect their new Transfiguration Professor with the cat that had followed them around Diagon Alley. Still, it was nice to get out on four feet sometimes and stretch. She hadn't had a chance to really be out and about as a cat in a good long while.

Which brought her back to why she wasn't having a good day.

So far she'd been chased by a dog (suddenly transforming from a cat into a witch was a noticeable occurrence even in the wizarding world and thus contradictory to not being noticed), dive-bombed by a small parliament of owls, avoided a falling stack of cauldrons, had her tail trodded on at least three times, been accidentally kicked twice, had been 'rescued' by one very young witch as a 'delightful stray' and only barely managed to get away without revealing herself (though she made it a point to remember said witch for when they'd meet again in a few years), and had been mobbed by an even younger boy with hands sticky from one of Florean Fortescue's Fabulous Fountain Freezies.

She was miserable, tired, and dirty; her fur stuck in clumps from the Freezie, and she hadn't had such a miserable time in her animagus form since James Potter was in school. Worse, for all her misery, she had very little that she could report to Dumbledore. The muggles apparently hadn't told him anything if some of what they had said was anything to go by, and the expected light show inside of Ollivanders was more spectacular than usual (not to mention wet, one of the few things she really despised as a cat was wet fur and it had unfortunately happened before the boy with the Fountain Freezie so she hadn't even gotten clean fur out of the deal and that blasted girl's mother had dried her too so she had been all nice and fluffy when the boy had attacked her). Hagrid would have to be cautioned, again, about letting slip information that he shouldn't, and Severus, miracle of miracles, had actually been _polite_. More polite to a student than she had ever seen before. Either his vacation had been passing extraordinarily well, or he was deathly ill.

Perhaps both.

In which case she might need to see to advertising for a new Potion Professor as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts one—one had to be prepared for next year, after all. Thankfully she already had the next advert for the later already written. It was identical to the one she'd posted the year before, only with the date changed.

As she contemplated her colleague's health (or potential lack thereof), the door of the magical equipment shop the pair had elected to stop at opened and Harry walked out. Minerva waited, expecting the girl to follow after him, but instead the door swung closed and Harry started walking up the Alley towards Flourish and Blotts. She hesitated, every instinct telling her that the girl was the one she had to watch out for. That Harry was too new to magic, still caught up in the awe and wonder of it to fully realize its implications. But Albus' orders had been precise and with a huff she set out after him.

A flash of gray out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and Minerva McGonagall sprang at the mouse that had suddenly appeared before her. She started to let it go, then the scent hit her.

_Purrrr_

\|/\|/\|/

Allie grinned as the tabby cat with the odd, spectacle-like markings around its eyes caught the animated toy mouse. It resumed its normal appearance of a fluffy ball of gray fur as the cat batted it around for a moment. Then it transformed into a mouse again and took off, the cat right after it.

Whistling a jaunty tune she took off after Harry.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry started when Allie tapped him on the shoulder, but grinned when he saw Allie smiling. "It worked?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "Any Rodent—_Animated!_ Guaranteed fun and excitement for any cat, kneezle, krup, or owl. Will provide hours of enjoyment…yadda, yadda, so on and so forth."

"Neat," Harry said. "What was that that you put inside of it?"

"Magical catmint," Allie said, grinning wildly. "It almost makes me hope that someone really was possessing that cat. It's entirely harmless, mind you, at least to felines, but I've heard that the hallucinations and euphoria are quite spectacular."

"Makes me wish I could have seen it," Harry said.

"That's why I also got an Insta!Graph," Allie said, pulling out a copper picture frame. "Capture one memory for a lifetime of viewing enjoyment, anytime, anywhere."

Harry took the frame. Lying on its back on Diagon Alley's cobblestones was the cat. Its tail flicked back and forth wildly as it pawed at the ball of fluff clamped firmly in its jaws. The cat's ears were folded back, its eyes were wide, and it had a silly expression on its face as it rolled around. "Wow," he said, staring at it, then grinned up at Allie. "I think I'm going to like magic."

He handed her the frame back and was about to say more when a rather large, and very white, owl swept down on them. Harry ducked as the owl swept by so close it ruffled his hair. Immediately it banked around again, and this time Allie stuck out her arm.

The owl landed on it, gave Harry a disgusted look, and held out one taloned leg imperiously. He noted that there seemed to be something tied around the leg, but most of his attention was on the sharp talons and the curved beak.

"Well?" Allie asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to see what it has to say?"

Harry looked at the leg doubtfully. "You think it'll let me?"

"Yes," Allie said succinctly. "Wizards use owls to deliver their post, remember?"

Harry nodded, then carefully tugged at the twine holding the roll of parchment to the owl's leg until it came loose. He backed out of range quickly as soon as he had the parchment, and the owl seemed to roll its eyes and sigh.

"Uh," Harry looked down at the coarse handwriting on the note. "Harry Potter, sorry we weren't able to talk longer, um… Something about a birthday present, looking forward to seeing me on the first, Hagrid." He frowned, "Birthday present?"

"Yeah, you know, gifts commonly given to commemorate the day you were born?" Allie asked.

"I know what they are, I just never got any before," Harry muttered as a small cage rolled out of the parchment into his hand. "Huh, a cage. A really _small_ cage."

The owl glared at him.

"I think he meant the owl," Allie said.

The owl nodded its entire body up and down.

"Is that right?" Harry asked, he looked at the owl, "Are _you_ my birthday present?"

Again that whole body bob.

"Uh…do you have a name?" Harry asked. "And how do you fit in this cage?"

The owl rolled its eyes again and looked plaintively at Allie.

"I would think," Allie said dryly. "That the cage has been shrunk, and needs to be _un_shrunk for her to fit in. And you need to give her a name."

"Her?" Harry asked.

Allie nodded firmly.

"How do you know?" he asked. "Why couldn't it be a boy owl?"

"Because I'm a—" she paused, and then shrugged. "It's a girl thing, Harry. Trust me, you are better off not knowing…ever."

"Oh," Harry said, wondering just what it was she had been about to say.

"Owl," Allie said, turning from Harry to the snowy owl perched on her arm. "Harry will be staying with the Patils until school starts."

The owl bobbed once more and took off. It circled once above them, then headed east.

"Hagrid shouldn't have done that," Harry said.

Allied frowned, "Why not?"

"I mean, he didn't have to," Harry said, feeling rather foolish. "I barely met him. Why would he do something like get me an owl?"

"Because he wanted to," Allie suggested. "Hagrid is very…generous with his feelings. He also knows more about dangerous animals than any three other people I've met. He also _likes_ animals even more than he knows about him. I haven't asked, but I'm fairly certain that Eyelops has a ban on him coming in except on business."

"So it was a way for him to get closer to some animals?" Harry asked distastefully. "First I'm famous, and now people want to use that fame."

"Probably, but not Hagrid," Allie said.

Harry looked at her skeptically, "You just told me he couldn't go in that place with the owls unless he was there to buy something."

"First off, Hagrid is in charge of the grounds and school animals," Allie said. "There are probably a hundred good reasons for being there other than to buy you an owl.

"Second, there are going to be at least three types of people who are going to want to be your friend. Type one are those at the pub, the fans who mostly possess the brains of a herd of sheep. Type two are those that want something from you, whether it's a favor, or advancing themselves by being near you, or simply sharing your fame. Type three are those who could care less and just think that Harry Potter might be a fun or interesting person to be around.

"Hagrid is too down to earth to be part of number one, and he isn't cunning enough for number two."

"Which leaves three," Harry said, nodding. "Which are you?" he asked curiously.

"Two and three," Allie said without missing a beat. "I never said they couldn't be more than one type."

Harry felt his stomach turn into a rock. He'd thought Allie was his friend, even stood up to the headmaster of his new school, his chance to escape the Dursleys and the greatest wizard alive (if Padma was right). But even she wanted something from him.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, pulling away. A sudden thought came to him, "If this is about money—"

Allie laughed.

Harry had been prepared for shock, evasion, even outright denial. "What's so funny?" he asked confused.

"The Thorne family is loaded," Allie said. "I just can't touch most of it for another couple of years." She shook her head, "Believe me, Harry, the _last_ thing I'm after is your inheritance."

"But you just said you wanted something from me," Harry protested.

"And I do," Allie said, "In addition to your friendship, of course."

"Of course," Harry said flatly as he crossed his arms. The surprise of her sudden revelation had passed and now it just hurt. It wasn't the physical kind of hurt that came at the end of one of Dudley's 'Harry Hunting' games, but something deeper. He didn't know how to react to it, and it left him feeling confused and angry.

"When you stood up to Dumbledore for me and got him to agree to let me go to Howarts, which I'm grateful for, by the way, and I fully intend to repay the favor—"

Harry managed a tight nod in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to speak.

"—it dragged me into the magical community in a way that I wasn't before," Allie said. "That means it's a matter of when, not if, my gift will be revealed openly. I think I might have mentioned how bad its rep is? Well it's even more dangerous than its rep suggests."

"Which you told Mr. Patil," Harry said flatly.

"He already knew," Allie said. "He and Mum went to school together, they were really close which is why I lived with the Patils after she…wasn't able to care for me any more," she concluded somewhat lamely. He found out on one those take-your-kids-to-work day things. I ended up saving his life."

"But you don't live there anymore."

Allie glared at him and Harry found that he didn't care. He just looked at her defiantly.

"You really want to do this?"

"I want the truth," Harry said. "Seems like I haven't been getting a whole lot of it."

"Fine," she said shortly. "Do you mind if we take this off the main street?"

"Sure."

She led him over to an alleyway between two shops.

"So?" Harry asked when they were alone.

"So I saved Chirag's life, but I was probably about five seconds away from killing Padma before he stopped me," Allie said shortly.

Harry flinched.

"What, do you think it was all light and cheerful and he helped me out of the kindness of his heart?" Allie asked. "I told that comparing me to the Pied Piper wasn't far off. The Piper _kills_ all the kids at the end of the story. Did you somehow think I only got the neat parts and didn't get the bad ones too?"

"I didn't know what to think," Harry protested. "Besides, it's not like I actually know anything because you don't want to tell me."

Allie wouldn't meet his eyes, but did nod grudgingly. "Fair enough."

"So," Harry said, and finding himself suddenly at a loss for what to say next, asked: "so what do you want from me?"

Allie looked up at him, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that she was searching him for an answer he couldn't have given, and if he had it was a question that she didn't know how to ask.

"What I am won't stay secret forever, it can't," she said finally. "I'm hoping that having Harry Potter as a friend will help convince people that I'm not the next dark lord when my secrets come out."

"Okay," Harry said, it made sense…wait, no it didn't. "I don't think you'll have that problem though, Allie," he said with a slight grin.

"Oh?" Allie asked.

Harry nodded, feeling rather clever, "Anyone with eyes can see that you're too pretty to be a dark lord."

Allie made a noise of outrage as Harry took off running up Diagon Alley towards the refuge of the bookstore.

As he ran a stray thought past through his mind.

_Hey, this Tag game that Dudders likes so much can be _fun!

\|/\|/\|/

Flourish and Blotts was everything Harry ever imagined a bookstore to be and more; deep and still, with the dusty, musty odor of paper, parchment, and leather bindings. Tall shelves that stretched to the ceiling lined the walls and were filled with row upon row of books. A magnificent brass ladder swung around the wall shelves and provided a perch to look down on the rows upon rows of shorter shelves—which were still as tall as Hagrid if not more—that filled the rest of the store. One set was actually a rack of diamond-shaped holes that were filled with scrolls ranging from simple parchment to an elaborate one made of silver. Tables, wood dark and heavy with age and worn silk-smooth by hundreds of years and thousands of hands, stood in corners and at ends of aisles with still more books displayed.

He'd never had a book of his very own before, but he'd recognized that reading was a type of power that the Dursleys couldn't take away from him. He'd read every book in his primary school's small library; even read some of the books at the Little Whinging library when his entire class had been trekked over to get their library cards. Harry had been careful to never bring anything back to Number 4, of course. Dudley wouldn't care that it was a library book, only that Harry had something and that he could hurt Harry by ruining it and Uncle Vernon would of course side with Dudley. That hadn't stopped him from very carefully reading all of the books on the shelf in Dudley's second bedroom where they'd sat, never read, until Harry had snuck in and opened them.

Harry quickly found his school books and then took the time to look around. There were big books and small books, books in English and books in other languages, books with clever little symbols and books with nothing written in them at all. There were books on potions, on transfiguration, on charms, on illusions. There were books on how to predict the future and how to see the past.

He would have been content to stay and just brose through books for hours, but Allie reminded him that they were to meet with the twins. He reluctantly turned from the shelves to find another problem, what to do with the stack of books that he'd pulled off of shelves, thinking that he'd find them interesting.

"Finding everything okay?" A wizard in sharp robes with the name of the shop across the chest, asked.

"Too well," Harry sighed, looking at the small mountain (it nearly reached his chin) that he had gathered. "That's the problem."

"Ah," the wizards said. "Well, I'll just be levitating these back to th—"

"Wait," Harry said sharply. He reached into the stack and pulled a copy of the _Sorcerer's Almanac_ out of it. After a moment of thought, a paving-stone sized book that was thicker than the width of his spread hand entitled _An Extremely Brief History of Magic _joined it.

"That everything?" the wizard asked with an amused look.

Harry looked at the pile, then at his course books and the two books he'd chosen, and sighed. Decisions, decisions. "I'll take, uh, Francis Barrett's editing of John Dee's _Encyclopedia Magica_ as well, please."

"The whole thing?" the wizard asked.

Harry nodded.

The wizard waggled his wand, and the remaining books hopped up and began ambling back to their shelves. "A good choice, Dee. Not as much detail as some, but very comprehensive; and Magus Barrett's annotating is superb, if Dee doesn't give you enough detail Barrett gives you good starting places to find it."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry groaned and leaned back into the couch in the living room. The third piece of cake, he thought, was probably too much. It had taken him almost two weeks to get over a surprising habit of picking at meals, though given how much he normal got to eat it really shouldn't have been. He'd replaced it with a habit of trying to match the twins at every meal, a habit that often left him feeling unwell afterwards. He'd been trying to find a comfortable point somewhere in between, and was privately grateful that neither of the elder Patils had said anything though he was sure that they'd noticed. He was equally sure that the twins had not, Padma had a tendency to start asking questions the moment she didn't understand something, and once Parvati started talking it seemed the only way to make her stop was to suggest that it might be time for a snack.

The cake had been worth it though. A giant three-tier cake that when you sliced it was any kind of cake you could name.

"That was excellent, Mrs. Patil," he said.

"I'm glad you liked it," she replied. "I usually don't like using magic for food, but I thought your first real birthday cake should be special."

Harry nodded his understanding. Once she'd found out that cooking was one of the few activities he'd enjoyed doing at the Dursleys (the few times his Aunt Petunia would actually leave him alone to cook, at least) she'd taken to encouraging his talent. Padma and Parvati both disliked cooking at the best of times, and since their mother expressly forbad any magic near her kitchen they were glad to give up helping her in favor of Harry.

Harry closed his eyes and let the couch enfold him, wondering if this was what it was like to have a family. He was rudely jolted out of his revere by something heavy being dropped into his lap. He looked up to find both twins staring down at him.

"You can't fall asleep yet," Parvati said accusingly.

"What is this?" Harry asked, staring at the very large package in his lap wrapped with bright yellow paper covered with pink and purple elephants that danced across it as he watched.

"It's a birthday present," Padma stated.

"You have to open it," Parvati explained. "That one's from Padma."

"I get presents?" Harry asked with wide eyes.

"It's been known to happen," Mr. Patil teased.

Harry turned from him to Allie who was smirking at him from where she leaned against one wall.

"Go ahead and open it before they strain something," she said with a nod towards Parvati who turned and stuck a tongue out at the other girl.

Harry found a seam in the paper and ripped it back. A flash went off somewhere to his left and he looked up guiltily to find Mr. Patil smiling at him as he lowered a large camera.

"Harry's first birthday present," he said proudly, passing around the photo which quickly found itself in its own frame next to a dozen others that had labels like 'Harry's Hogwarts Letter', 'Harry's first robes', 'Harry's new wand', and 'Harry's first birthday cake'.

"Be careful," Padma whispered with a straight face.

"They might start an album," her sister added. Both shuddered.

"We aren't that bad," Mr. Patil said.

The twins gave him a look that clearly said that they thought otherwise.

"Go ahead and finish opening your present," Mrs. Patil said, giving the twins and her husband a look of long-suffering patience.

Harry ripped the rest of the paper off the top to reveal a large book with a dark red leather cover that was half-covered with gold embossed scroll-work. "_Complete Collected Codices Merlinus_," he read. "Wow."

"It's Grandmaster Asimov's annotation," Padma said proudly.

"You got him Asimov's annotating of the Merlin Codices?" Allie looked at her askance.

"Daddy said we could get him whatever we wanted," Padma said.

Allie shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Your girlfriend has an eye for books," Allie said.

"She's not his girlfriend," Parvati said.

"I'm not?" her sister asked affronted.

"No, I am," Parvati said.

"You, ah, what?" Harry managed.

"Don't worry about it, just do as I say and everything will be fine," Parvati advised him.

Allie snickered.

Padma shook her head, "You can't be his girlfriend."

"Why not?" Parvati demanded.

"Because I was born first," Padma said promptly. "I get first call."

Parvati glared at her sister, then looked at Harry appraisingly before turning back to Padma. "Share?"

"Help?" Harry's plea came out in almost a squeak from where he was trapped in the soft couch between the twins with the heavy book on his lap.

"Girls," Mr. Patil said as Allie burst out laughing.

"Daddy said we couldn't start dating until we're thirteen," Padma said.

"You have some time to get comfortable with the idea," her sister added.

"Allie, help me?" Harry asked.

"No way," Allie replied. "Over-fed, under-bred, cretins are one thing, the twins are something else."

The twins turned and this time both stuck their tongues out at her.

Harry laughed. From the grins the twins exchanged that had been at least part of their goal, but he didn't care. At the Dursleys there'd been precious few things for him to laugh about, and even then he didn't dare let them catch him actually laughing.

"Parvati's turn," Padma said as her sister produced a box that was just as brightly wrapped, though not as neatly as her own had been.

He ripped the paper off without hesitating this time. Parvati's present was a daily calendar on a fancy wood base that was carved with strange symbols. A small pad of paper was set next to the stack of calendar days, and came with an equally small quill and pot of ink.

"It's a horoscope-a-day calendar," Parvati said. "Each day has its own horoscope just for you. You can write important notes on the parchment and they'll copy themselves onto the proper day, and there's a charm on it that will wake you up at the time you specify."

"Wow," Harry said.

"Very nice," Padma agreed sardonically.

Parvati crossed her arms, "Well at least I got him something useful. I mean, who's even _read_ the Merlin codexes?"

"Codices," Padma and Allie said together.

"They're long, dry, _boring_, written in really awful handwriting, and aren't even written in English!"

"Is too English!"

"Is not!"

"It's old English, Parvati," Allie said.

"It's okay, Harry," Padma told him as Allie and Parvati argued over whether or not Old English was really English at all. "I got you a copy that used typeset with modern spelling and translation."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"My turn next, I suppose," Allie said, flipping a package to Harry.

Harry caught it deftly and looked down. There was a small, flat box that was tied to a somewhat larger box. Neither were wrapped with paper, and the smaller box was the same kind of box that his Uncle had brought his Aunt jewelry in. "What is this?" he asked.

"It's a birthday present," Allie said.

"No, I mean…this is a jewelry box," Harry said.

"Yeah, well," Allie shrugged uncomfortably. "Just open it, will you?"

Harry hesitated, then flipped the lid open. Nestled on a velvet backing was a bird carved from amber. Its wings were upraised, and gold flames rose around it. Its eyes were chips of some green stone, and it held a black orb in its claws. The whole thing was not even an inch high, and it hung from a silver necklace.

"It's, um…"

"It's a phoenix," Padma said. She started to reach down to pick it up.

"Stop!"

Padma froze and looked at Allie in surprise.

"You won't want anyone touching that for a month or so," Allie told Harry.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Protection spells," Allie said flatly. "It's a charm, although technically I suppose it's an amulet or talisman, I'm not sure which. The enchantments run off your aura so you need to wear it close to your skin, and it'll only work if you're wearing it. Probably best that you don't go flashing it around or people'll realize that you have it."

"What kind of spells?" Harry asked.

"As I said, protective ones," Allie said. "It'll grow warm if you're in danger. The hotter it gets the more danger. If you pull it out it'll glow in dark places. There are some basic anchored protective runes, nothing spectacular, mind, there's a limit on what I can do on a piece that small and mobile. What anyone can do, really, since wards are meant to be anchored to one place.

"I didn't have any way of testing it, but I'll tell you right now it won't stop any high-level curses, not that we should be seeing any of those any time soon."

She hesitated, "I, uh, experimented with my magic null-zone wards. It'll need at least a year and a day to charge and it probably won't work, but if you break the obsidian orb off of it a temporary anti-magic field will pop up centered on the orb."

"How big a field and for how long?" Chirag asked sharply

Allie shrugged. "I ripped most of the arithmancy calculations from a temporary zonal protection sphere. The zone will be spherical and centered on the orb. The size _should_ be proportional to the wearer's magical strength, but not to the length of time worn. I'm not sure on how big an area it'll cover, but it'll probably be somewhere between six and thirty feet, so at best a sphere sixty feet wide, but probably thirty or so. Duration could be anywhere from seven to seven times seven times seven seconds, but probably forty-nine seconds."

"What type of zonal ward?" Ms. Patil interjected.

Allie looked at her, "pardon?"

"What type of protection sphere did you modify?" she repeated.

"Er, one to protect against dogs," Alllie said. "But that's not important. It—"

"You took the arithmancy calculations from a _mail-carrier's_ charm?" Mr. Patil asked.

"Enchantment, actually," Allie said. "Just for interfacing and the rune controller-sequence, oh, and power regulation, but that's really governed by the field regulator of the anti-magic ward."

"Which means what, exactly?" Harry asked quietly as he watched the two adults and Allie.

"That she isn't sure," Padma said.

"Isn't sure of what?"

"If it'll work, now hush."

Mr. Patil was pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, "How are you storing the power for all of this?"

"The primary set of enchantments all use a direct-flow pattern through a first-order power sink," Allie said. "The anti-magic field uses, uh, a," she muttered something that Harry didn't catch as her cheeks turned pink.

"Allie," Mr. Patil growled.

"A single-release fourth-order power matrix embedded in the orb," Allie muttered a little louder.

"Oh wait! I know this," Parvati said. "That means it'll blow up, right?"

"No," Allie said. "It means that it'll store power, and when the ward is activated it'll power the ward…once."

"And then it'll blow up," Parvati said.

"Unless the matrix holding it breaks first," Padma said. "Then the whole thing will just blow up instead of working."

"Not all of my wards blow up when they fail," Allie said.

"Tree house," Parvati said.

"That was that insane squirrel's fault!" Allie protested.

"And the new containment ring in my lab?" Mrs. Patil asked with a smile.

Allie crossed her arms. "Wasn't my fault. That lab mouse of yours, the one with the over-sized head, tipped over a bottle of a thaum indicator solution that wiped out part of a rune-sequence. I got the anti-gnome wards on the garden right, didn't I?"

"You got me a present that might blow me up?" Harry asked Allie.

"I did not get you a present that will—" Allie stopped and sighed. "Fine. It's not _my_ power matrix. I had Master G do it for me. It's perfectly safe."

Mr. Patil frowned, "Perhaps you should show it to Professor Dumbledore, Harry, just to make sure."

Harry looked at the amulet again, then up at Allie. "If it's okay with you—"

"Go ahead," she said with a shake of her head. "My personal issues aside, he really is one of the smartest wizards alive."

"Okay," Harry said, he took the phoenix out of the box and fastened the necklace around his neck. "Plus it looks really neat," he said, looking down at the carved phoenix.

"Pretty," Padma agreed.

Parvati nodded, "It'd be a shame to hide it."

"I needed a shape and materials that would take the charms," Allie said, "There weren't exactly a lot of things to choose from. It takes more than what I can do to make a charm stick to most metals. It's meant to be worn against the skin, where it'll take a magical scan to reveal that it's enchanted. Wear it openly and anyone who knows what a magical amulet looks like will be able to identify it as one, and it won't charge as fast or be as effective."

Harry stopped and considered that. "You think it's likely that I'm going to be attacked?"

Allie and the elder Patils traded looks. Finally Allie shrugged. "I don't know anything for certain, Harry. Not all of Lord Vo—"

"Allie!" Mr. Patil said sharply.

"Fine, not all of _His_ followers were sent to prison," Allie said. "A lot of them bribed or threatened their way out and still walk free. All of them have a reason to really not like you. Some of them may seek to harm or kill you, either for revenge or because they think that's what their Master would want. Just remember, there isn't going to be enough power for the anti-magic field until August 1st of next year."

Harry hesitated, then reluctantly tucked it inside his shirt. The amulet was gently warm against his skin. He picked up the flat box and started to close it, when he noticed a scrap of parchment inside of it. Curious he plucked it out and unrolled it until he could read what was scrawled on it, and stumbled through: "_Hic facet Arthurus, Rex Quondam, Rexque futurus_."

The wooden box that was the other half of his present disappeared and was replaced with a small hardcover book with a pale yellow-cream cover. Harry picked it up, "The Once and Future King?" he asked, flipping it over, "The magical epic of King Arthur and his shining Camelot."

"It's a safe," Allie said. "It's a book, real enough, but if you say that phrase it turns into a box that you can store things in and back."

"It's just the kind of book the Dursleys would loath," Harry said with a broad grin. "Thank you." He picked up the parchment again and this time the Latin phrase came easier and he was left holding a wooden box a little larger than the book had been with a simple clasp. "Um, the password…"

"It's what's written on Arthur's gravestone," Parvati said, instantly recognizing the quote.

"Here lies Arthur, the Once and Future King," Padma added.

Harry dropped the jewelry box inside of the wooden box and sealed it again before speaking the password a third time.

"In that case," Mr. Patil said looking at his wife. "I believe it is now our turn…"


	5. Chapter 5: Magic Trains

**Chapter Five: Magic Trains**

_One thing about trains: it doesn't matter where they're going. What matters is deciding to get on.  
_The Polar Express (Film)

Albus Dumbledore carefully selected a lemon drop from the crystal bowl he normally kept on his office desk. After examining it he opened his mouth, carefully placed it on his tongue, and closed his eyes as the first sour bite flooded his mouth. Opening them again he made a lifting gesture with one hand, the crystal bowl lifting obediently into the air and proffering itself to the woman standing before his desk. "Lemon drop?"

The look his Deputy Headmistress gave him was sourer than the lemon drop slowly dissolving on his tongue.

"No?" he asked, returning the crystal bowl back to his desk with a wandless gesture. "How did your observations of the young Mister Potter go?"

The look on Minerva McGonagall's face grew even sourer and a nervous tic appeared beneath her left eye. That was disturbing. Even in the very darkest years before Tom's demise—how ever brief he was sure it would eventually prove to be—that tic hadn't been there. In fact, Albus Dumbledore couldn't recall seeing that tic at all since James Potter and his cohorts had left school…or, for that matter, before they had started.

"I haven't had such a miserable time as a cat since James Potter and _Black_—" she spat the name like it was a foul word "—graduated. I was kicked, my trail was trodden on— one very young boy with very sticky hands from one of Florean Fortescue's Fabulous Fountain Freezie got my fur all sticky…"

"You were successful then?" Albus asked.

Minerva pursed her lips. "Somewhat. I couldn't follow them into the shops or Gringotts of course."

"Of course," Albus agreed. "And?"

"The magic flares inside Ollivander's were stronger than usual."

"Oh? In what way?"

Minerva gritted her teeth, "at least one of them flooded the shop. Ollivander blasted his door open. Many people were…upset by the tide of water that came out."

"You got wet, I take it?"

"Yes," she said tersely.

"Mmm-hmm," he said, savoring the last of the lemon drop before helping himself to another. "And what did they talk about?"

"Very little, really. Harry asked about Quidditch, but Ms…Blackthorn, I think she decided to call herself… _Well_," Minerva huffed, "she apparently doesn't follow the game. Prefers rugby of all things. They ran into Hagrid coming out of Gringotts and he blathered all about you having him retrieve the you-know-what from a high-security vault. He managed not to tell them what it was, but he spouted off practically everything else."

"Expected, but not terribly troubling," Albus said. "It isn't exactly the sort of information that anyone can make use of, Minerva, and you know as well as I that Hagrid is more than what he seems to first eye. He retrieved the item in question as expected. If people know that it is in the safety and security of Hogwarts…" he gave a little shrug.

"Hmph," Minerva huffed. "I do hope you are correct about this, Albus. That object, there are people who would do anything, even try the Walls of Hogwarts, for it. We will have students here. You are running a grave risk with their safety, a risk that I am not at all comfortable with."

"Precautions have been taken, Minerva, trust me," Albus said soothingly. "You know very well that if I thought that there was any real danger to the students I would have never allowed it to be brought here. Now, what else did Harry and…his friend discuss?"

Minerva frowned. "I gathered from what they said that the Dursleys told him nothing at all about the wizarding world."

"Disappointing, yes," Albus agreed. "However it might turn out for the best. How did he take to people recognizing who he was?"

"Mostly I don't think they did, not right away," the Transfiguration Professor said. "It was apparent that all parties, including the Patils, were trying to keep their visit low-key."

"Which suggests that he was at least warned about other peoples' reactions and took measures to avoid a situation he was uncomfortable with," the Headmaster pointed out.

"Please, Albus, he's an eleven year old boy, no matter what he did when he was little more than an infant or who his parents were," Minerva said faintly. "More likely the Patils or Ms. Blackthorn had arranged things, that girl is pure Slytherin material, believe me. It's in the blood."

"Please, Minerva," Albus said. "I never took you to be one to fall into that kind of thinking. After all, Rookwood was a Ravenclaw, and Lord Voldemort's most useful spy, the one that they say was his most trusted servant, was a Gryffindor."

"So they say," she repeated, her voice dripping contempt. "In that one's case, however, the acorn did not fall far from the oak tree."

"Very well," Albus said. "Did anything else happen?"

"They did meet Severus," Minerva said musingly. "He was…polite, actually. It's probably best that you don't inform Sybll. No doubt it's a sign that the rivers are going to turn into butterbeer or the Earth is going to be inundated by fluffy white mini-lops named _Bun Bun_ or some such."

Albus' lips twitched. "Ah Severus. I had worried, Minerva. Given how antagonistic young Harry Potter's father was to him I'd almost convinced myself that having both of them in the castle, no matter how big Hogwarts is, would be a disaster waiting to happen. I'm quite relieved to hear that my concerns were ill-warranted."

Minerva McGonagall's face slipped into a polite, if blank, mask that did little to hide from Albus just what she thought about her youngest colleague. While it was true that Severus Snape was the youngest (by seven hours and nineteen minutes) person to ever receive an accredited Potion Mastery from the Potioneers International Guild, he also was (at least in her opinion) a poor teacher. True enough those students who entered his N.E.W.T.-level course had consistently ranked among the highest standing academically in the world (as befitted those graduating from Hogwarts) he also accepted far fewer into that course than any other Potion Master in Hogwarts' history. He was opinionated, sarcastic, short-tempered, possessed little patience, and blatantly favored his own House over any other. In fact, as Deputy Headmistress, she had a file cabinet with an ever-expansion charm on it just for complaints regarding one Severus Snape, ranging from un-fair detentions, to verbal abuse, to abusing and manipulating the house point system.

Unfortunately they were _only_ complaints. None of the reports from Madam Pomfrey were inconsistent with what could reasonably be attributed to working with potions or teenagers being…teenagers. The Headmaster, of course, had firm reigns on the House Point system. The only time Minerva knew what any points were granted or deducted for were when she herself added or removed them, or when someone told her what the change had been for. That didn't keep the other Heads of House from going to the Headmaster when they had felt a point-deduction was excessive—Filius and Pomona especially, and usually in regards to points Severus Snape had removed—and very often they succeeded in getting the points modified. But it was that kind of behavior she detested most and in one of their very few fights, Dumbledore had pointed out that she was just as free as Filius or Pomona to come see him to which she had acidly replied that she shouldn't have to.

Even his grading, if much more stringent at all levels than _she_ would have done, was consistent and if his comments were harsher than any other teacher, none of them had been _wrong_. Coupled with the support of Albus Dumbledore and the academic success of his students, even those who only took Potions through the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, made it difficult to present a case for removal to the Governors. That wasn't to say that she couldn't do just that, she could, but only by completely breaking with Dumbledore and making the whole thing very public. There were days she wanted to do just that, but Dumbledore knew as well as she did that she was disinclined to bring that kind of negative publicity upon Hogwarts.

If he ever, _ever_, personally harmed a student or had allowed a student to come to harm due to overt negligence that would change very suddenly. She had spent a considerable amount of time and effort to find ways of ensuring that copies of the contents of that file cabinet found their way onto the desks of the Board of Governors, the Minister for Magic, and the Editor of the Daily Prophet.

Which of course one Albus Dumbledore knew, just like she knew that he knew, and, for that matter knew that he knew she knew he knew.

"And how did the rest of the trip go? Did he get anything interesting from Flourish and Blotts?" he asked.

"I couldn't say, Headmaster," she said stiffly, dropping a tattered ball of grayish fluff on his desk. "Someone dropped this on the street as I followed Harry from the store where he bought his telescope."

Albus Dumbledore frowned as he picked it up and, after a moment of poking, managed to open the magically concealed pocket to reveal the badly masticated remnants of the herbs inside.

"Oh my," he said, fighting a grin that threatened to break out across his face.

\|/\|/\|/

"Relax, Harry, she'll be here."

Harry looked up at Mr. Patil. "You think so? I mean, I haven't seen her since Diagon Alley. She hasn't even written." He reached down to stroke Hedwig through the wire mesh of the cage. As Allie had said, it had only taken a tap of Mr. Patil's wand to unshrink it at which point the white owl he'd first met at Diagon Alley had swept in and promptly made itself at home. Picking out a name for her had taken three weeks and half of the _Encyclopedia Magica_.

Mr. Patil looked pensive. "Allie is a fine young woman, Harry. Very gifted magically; a shame that she has not been allowed formal schooling before now. But she has a habit of immersing herself in her work. Lack of communication is not, unfortunately, unusual."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down. "So what exactly does she do? You talked about her starting fires unintentionally with her magic, pyra-something, I think. She referred to herself as 'sort of like the pied-piper' and implied it had to do with magical pest removal. But I don't see how one has to do with the other, and why would getting rid of pixies and doxies be seen as a dangerous magical ability?"

Mr. Patil contemplated his answer for a moment. "I think I shall let her tell you that. Now, you should find a compartment and get settled in before the train leaves."

Harry nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to get anything more from the man who'd taken him in over the past few months. It was a mystery he was just going to have to work out for himself. Maybe he could talk her into some kind of guessing game? He put the thought aside and nodded politely. "Thank you, Mr. Patil, for the summer. It was wonderful."

Mr. Patil laughed. "And it was enjoyable for us as well. Take care, and don't forget to write."

"I won't," Harry promised.

He and the twins boarded the train and found the last compartment of the last car to be empty. They dragged their trunks inside, then Padma and Parvati went off to search for trouble or their friends.

Quite possibly both.

A boy not much older than hair with red hair stumbled into the compartment soon after. His trunk hit the floor with a loud thump as it feel from his fingers. "Is this compartment taken?"

"We've got room, if that's what you mean," Harry said.

"Ron Weasley," the boy said. "They say Harry Potter's on the train, have you seen him?"

"Every time I look in the mirror," Harry muttered.

Ron frowned, "You're _him_? You're Harry Potter?" he not-quite shouted.

"Mind keeping it down?" Harry asked. "If I had wanted everyone to know I'd have taken out an advert in the Daily Prophet."

"I, but, you're _famous_," Ron turned his shout into a loud whisper that was non-too-quiet, but at least wasn't a shout. "You killed You-Know-Who!"

Harry sighed, "So they tell me."

"Do you—"

"Remember anything?" Harry asked testily. "I was fifteen months old, _Ron_. Of _course_ I don't remember anything!"

Ron flushed, "Sorry. I suppose you get that a lot."

Harry frowned, "Not as much as you'd imagine. I expect that's going to change soon…unfortunately."

Ron frowned, "What do you mean?" he asked as the train lurched. There was a piercing whistle and a blast of steam and the train began to slowly move.

Harry looked out at the platform inching away from them. He turned back to Ron and regarded him levelly, then shrugged. "It's…" he hesitated briefly. "It's not something I like thinking about is all. I don't have any parents, any family, because of that night. And people insist on reminding me of it."

"Oh," Ron said softly. "I guess I can imagine how I'd feel in my brothers were dead."

"They go to Hogwarts too?" Harry asked.

"All except Bill and Charlie, they've already graduated," Ron said. "Percy, Percival actually, is a fifth year this year and Prefect to boot. Fred and George, they're third years, pranksters, best to watch out for them."

Harry nodded.

The cardboard shoebox on top of Ron's trunk rustled and then bucked.

Ron took the top off and pulled out a large, grey, somewhat the worse for wear, rat. "Scabbers," he said. "He was Percy's, Charlie's before that. When Perce made Prefect Mum and Dad got him an owl. Fred and George gave me a spell that's supposed to turn him yellow. Now that we're on the train I suppose it's legal now, right?"

The compartment door opened before Harry could reply, and a girl with the bushiest hair that Harry had ever seen poked her head in. "Has anyone seen a toad?"

"A toad?" Harry asked.

"Neville Longbottom lost his," she said, dragging a short, round-faced boy into the compartment. "Oooh, are you going to do magic?" she closed the compartment and sat down on Harry's trunk. "Well, go on."

Ron frowned, then screwed up his eyes and pointed his wand at the rat and repeated a short rhyme.

"Well, that wasn't a very good spell," the girl said as the door quietly slid open behind her. "I've tried several spells at home and they all worked perfectly. Nobody in my family is magic at all, it was such a surprise when my letter came, but I was ever so please, of course, I mean, it's the best school of magic, or so I heard—I've learned all the books by heart of course, I just hope it's enough—"

"Breathe, girl."

Harry watched in amazement as Hermione nearly levitated without using her wand. "Who are you?" she demanded as the newest person in the compartment slid the door closed.

"Allie," Harry said with a relieved grin at seeing his friend. Like Hermione, she was already wearing her robes.

"You already know a, what, fourth year?" Ron asked.

"Transfer student," she said, offering a hand. "You can call me Elissa Blackthorn, but I prefer Allie."

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," Hermione said, shaking the hand briskly.

"Ron Weasley," Ron said with a frown.

"Harry Potter," Harry said.

"Are you really?" she asked, leaning forward and examining Harry as though he were a particularly interesting insect. "I got a few extra books for background and I've read all about you of course."

"Of course," Harry said, the words strangled in his throat.

She nodded happily. "Oh yes, _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Famous Wizards of the 20th Century_, _Modern Magical History_, the _Wizard's Compendium_—"

"Did you try _Who's Who_ and _Which Witch_?" Allie asked sarcastically.

Hermione frowned slightly at the other girl, then brushed it off as the _Hogwarts' Express_' loosed a blast from its whistle as they rattled through a small country town. "My Dad collects model trains, I shall have to get him one painted like the _Hogwarts Express_. Do you know what kind of train this is?"

"Of Course," Harry said, pleased to have an answer for her. "It's a magic train."

"I know it's a magic train. Actually, it's a Great Western Railway 4-6-0 4900/Hall-class steam locomotive, number 5972½. It is the so-called 'missing hall', the muggles are able to account for only 259 of a production run of 260. Its predecessor, GWR 4900 5972 'Olton Hall' was built in April, 1937 at GWR's Swindon Works. The _Express_ rolled off their lines a month later. It weighs 168,000 pounds and—"

"You do love listening to yourself talk, don't you?" Allie asked.

Hermione glared at her, sniffed, and turned back to Harry. "Do any of you know what House you'll be in? Gryffindor sounds the best from all that I've heard. Dumbledore himself is said to have been in Gryffindor—though I suppose it wouldn't be too bad to be in Ravenclaw." She turned to Allie, "Do you know if you'll get sorted with the rest of us, or have they made special arrangements? I don't remember anything in _Hogwarts, a History_ about accepting transfer students."

Allie extended her hand, palm down, and rocked it back and forth in a so-so gesture. "Transfer is the closest term, not the best. I haven't had any formal magical education yet. That's not common, but then, it's not unheard of for magic to suddenly and spontaneously manifest in people who should no sign of it before in moments of extreme stress. Professor Dumbledore has graciously allowed me to attend Hogwarts to make up that knowledge base."

"So you're entering as a first year?" Hermione asked. "Aren't you too old?"

Allie gave her an unfriendly smile. "Something like that. I actually do have a little magical training, just nothing taught in Hogwarts. At least not to first years."

Hermione frowned, "I thought a basic proficiency was mandatory before moving onto more complex magics that require a blending of multiple disciplines."

"Been reading ahead?" Allie asked.

Hermione flushed, "A little."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Allie smirked.

"A lot," Hermione admitted.

"I've studied non-focus magic," Allie said.

"That's supposed to be incredibly difficult," Hermione said.

"It depends on the type of magic," Allie said, crossing her arms. "If you were talking about simply not using a wand for the type of magic where one would normally be used…you'd be right."

"It sounds fascinating. I'd love to talk about it," Hermione said. "But Neville and I had best be off finding his toad."

Harry stood, "Need one more to help look?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "_You_ want to help Neville look for his toad?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked. "There isn't anything wrong with that…is there?"

"No, I just didn't think that you would—"

The compartment door slid open again and the short, pale, sickle-haired boy he recognized from Madam Milkins, flanked by matching book-ends that looked a lot like Dudley with less fat and more…bulk—if such a thing was possible—sauntered into the compartment. He watched Harry with a lot more interest than he had in the shop.

"Is it true? They're saying all up and down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Harry nodded and glanced at the other boys, they looked rather like bodyguards.

"Oh, these are Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, and I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron coughed.

"Think my name is funny, do you?" Draco asked. "No need to ask who you are, my father told me all about the Weasleys. Red hair, freckles, more kids than they can afford."

Ron's cough turned into a strangled sound.

"Longbottom," Draco sneered at Neville, then turned to the two girls in the compartment. "I don't know you two."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione offered a hand.

Draco wrinkled his nose as though something unappealing had just been shoved in his face. "Muggleborn, are you," his tone made it clear it wasn't a question.

"Why, yes I am," Hermione replied.

"I suppose you're one too," Draco said distastefully as he eyed Allie.

Allie contemplated him for a moment before slowly smirking back at him, "You may call me Elissa Blackthorn."

"Thought so_._ The distinct pure-blood Blackthorn line has been dead for centuries," he said. "Father would have told me if one of them had suddenly shown up from nowhere. Especially at Hogwarts, he's on the Board of Governors you see."

"I can hardly help what you think you know," Allie said. "But I should point out that while the Blackthorn Family has been officially extinct as a distinct family for less than a century and a half, the Family it was absorbed into is extant."

"Not that you can call those miserable old hags that absorbed it a true Family," Draco sniffed. "Besides, father says that their reputation comes from rumors and stories that they've been spreading for generations."

"Well then, I suppose you have nothing to worry about," Allie said softly.

Draco frowned, "You can't be implying that you are one of _them_."

"Not implying, no," she said.

"What's your lineage?" the blond demanded imperiously.

Allie snorted, "What makes you think that I have any interest in your lineage?"

"Excuse me," Hermione said as Draco's pale cheeks tinged pink, "but is there some sort of wizarding nobility? I didn't read about any, but I'm beginning to wonder if I picked up all the books I should have. Several seem to take a great deal of background knowledge for granted."

"Not in the way you mean," Allie said calmly without turning from Draco. "There aren't any nobles in the sense that some old man in a draughty castle decided someone needed rewarding because of his political support. Though now that you mention it I think there are a handful of baronies and whatnot that are extinct in the mundane world but still floating around in the magical, not that it matters or anyone notices…mostly."

"That's right," Draco said with a puzzled frown at her. He turned to Hermione and his puzzled look turned into a sneer, "We're better because the purest of magic flows in the veins of the old magical families. Unlike you people who are new to the Arte."

Harry frowned and Hermione scowled at him while Ron made a gagging sound that drew a scornful look from the other boy.

He turned dismissively away from her to Harry. "You find that in the wizarding world, Potter, that some families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

"I think I can tell for myself who the wrong sort are," Harry said.

"I'd be a bit politer if I were you, Potter," Draco said, his voice coming out in a furious hiss as his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. "Or you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. If you hang around riff-raff like the Weasleys and muggleborns it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"What are you going to do?" Draco sneered. "Fight us?"

"Unless you get out now," Harry said, trying to sound braver than he felt. There were more of them but Crabbe and Goyle were bigger and Hermione seemed more likely to sit back and sniff disapprovingly, and Allie…well, he didn't want her to risk losing her place at Hogwarts so he'd just as soon she _didn't_ fight.

"But we don't want to leave, do we, boys?" Draco asked Crabbe and Goyle.

Goyle grinned and grabbed onto Ron's shoulder, but before Ron could do anything he suddenly shrieked and jumped back. Scabbers the rat hung from one finger, tiny teeth dug tightly into a knuckle. Goyle swung his arm violently, Scabbers the rat whirled round and round as Hermione screamed.

With a last great wave of Goyle's arm, Scabbers went flying and hit Neville who thumped back onto his seat with a cry. The three boys disappeared quickly after that.

"I can't believe—" Hermione was saying to herself, "fighting." Then, more loudly, "we're all going to be in trouble before we even _get_ there!"

"You're only in trouble if you get caught," Allie said philosophically.

Hermione gave the older girl a look generally reserved for those who stand up in the middle of church and announce that they've taken up devil worship and everyone is invited to their house for a Black Mass and lemonade.

"Y-you do know that you—" Neville stopped as Allie turned and looked at him.

"That I insulted him?" Allie asked. "Oh yes."

"You did?" Hermione asked to which Allie nodded an affirmative reply.

Harry snorted softly as the quest for knowledge caused the bushy-haired girl to stop worry about their impending expulsion.

"By not saying she was interested in his lineage she said that he isn't worth her time or consideration," Ron said, apparently quite happy to prove himself after his earlier failure with the color-changing spell. "That he was beneath her notice. For someone from one of the old, traditional magical families, that's a major insult."

Neville nodded, "My Gran says that the Malfoys are one of the oldest and most traditional families, and they have loads of gold and father has a lot of connections at the Ministry."

"They aren't as old as the Thorne family, are they?" Harry asked.

The compartment was suddenly still.

Harry belatedly realized that it might not be a question Allie would like him asking and looked to her, but she had managed to slip out of the compartment without anyone noticing. He turned back. Neville was staring with very wide eyes that flicked from him to the door and then back to Harry, while Ron looked at him askance. Even Hermione was silent, carefully watching the other two magic born and raised boys in the compartment.

"The Thornes are a _really_ old family of witches, Harry," Ron said slowly. "I mean, they were around before _Merlin_ was. But they're…scary. If you believe half the stories that are told about them they have claim to a lot of magic that no one else knows. They're supposed to have an island that only they can go to that is more magically powerful than Hogwarts and capable moving around on its own and even able to fly. They're supposed to be able to walk between shadows, travel through time, raise the dead, command seas and storms, and do powerful magic without the use of wand or other focus."

"They can command monsters, my Gran says," Neville whispered. "And that they can ride dragons."

"Right," Ron agreed with a nod. "There are stories about how they one Thorne could control hordes of rats, entire clans of giants, or even a nest of acromantulas—" he shuddered but pressed on "—without using any kind of bewitchment. They supposedly were able to control a flock of birds that was so big it could blot out the sun and strip farm fields in minutes. They were supposed to be tried by the International Confederation of Wizards for breach of the Secrecy Statutes, but they had the muggles kill all the birds before the trials could begin."

"But that's all just stories," Hermione huffed. "Nobody can control giants, not even with magic. Their skin is too tough, most spells just bounce off."

Neville nodded in agreement.

"As for flocks of birds, those stories are probably thinking about the passenger pigeon which the muggles made extinct in the late nineteenth century."

"Sure," Ron said uneasily. "And as far as dragons are concerned… My brother Charlie is a Dragon Keeper for a dragon preserve in Romania. It takes a dozen specially trained handlers just to keep one dragon inside the preserve, never mind keep it calm enough so that it doesn't start attacking the keepers or other dragons. They're impossible to ride, most of 'em would eat you first and the ones that wouldn't would feed you to their dragonets.

"Charming," Hermione said drolly.

"_But_," Ron said, leaning forward, "they kept to themselves. I don't think anyone has seen a member of the family in decades. And they have _never_ gone to Hogwarts."

"But then where would they go to school?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe they're home-schooled?" Neville asked tentatively.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, but Ron was already replying to Neville and he hadn't noticed.

"Most families have a few spells or something that they keep strictly within the family," Ron said. "And it could be that they use Apprenticeships. Those are _really_ old-fashioned but there are a few that still use them."

"Whatever," Hermione said, apparently having grown bored of the topic. She turned to Neville, "Come on, Neville, let's go find your toad."

"They're gonna be in Slytherin for sure," Ron said as Hermione and Neville left in search of Neville's toad.

"Neville and Hermione?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Malfoy and that other girl," Ron said.

"Allie's my friend," Harry told Ron.

Ron grimaced.

"She saved me, and she didn't have to," Harry added.

"Eh," Ron said, he picked up Scabbers and frowned. "I don't believe it, he's sleeping again." He sighed and shrugged his shoulders as he put Scabbers back in his box, "It was a stupid spell anyway," he muttered. "George gave it to me. I bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?"

"Gryffindor the lot of them, Mum and Dad too. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad as long as she isn't in it, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin. What's your Quidditch team?"

"I, uh, don't really know a lot about—"

And before Harry could finish Ron was off into a vivid description of the "best game in the world" almost as fast as Hermione's earlier discourse on how she got her letter.

\|/\|/\|/

There was a knock on the door an hour later that saved Harry from an involved explanation about two chasers, a beater, a seeker, three balls, and an assortment of odds and ends pulled from trunks to illustrate.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" asked a witch pushing a cart full of sweets.

Harry looked at Ron.

"Never mind me," Ron said, "Mom sent lunches with us." He opened a brown paper bag and made a face. "Corned beef. She never remembers that I don't like it."

"Oh yes," Harry said, standing up. He'd never had pocket money before he'd left the Dursleys, and even though he'd had gold and silver since, he'd never had a chance to spend it on candy. Now that he had the chance he fully intended to cram his pockets full of as many mars bars as he could—but the woman didn't have any. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Cockroach Cluster, Blood Pops, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss out on this new opportunity he bought some of everything and paid a dozen silver sickles and a few bronze knuts.

"Go ahead and have a pasty," Harry said, seeing Ron eye the candy.

"Well, if you're sure," Ron said after a moment and tore open a pasty.

The door edged open and a pale-looking cat squeezed into the compartment. It hopped up onto the seat next to Harry, picked up a blood pop, and looked at him imploringly until he opened it.

"Weird cat," Ron said.

The cat glared at Ron and flashed needle-sharp fangs, but didn't make any sound as it returned to the blood pop.

Harry ripped open a pouch and picked up the five-sided card that fell out. Albus Dumbledore waved at him from a small portrait, then gestured down. Harry looked down at the chocolate frog in time to see it hop out of the box and make a break for it.

"I thought you said they weren't real!"

"They aren't," Ron explained as the Chocolate Frog hopped onto the trunk and croaked an obnoxiously loud croak. "It's a charm of some kind. That's why you have to remember to—"

Exactly what he had to do Harry missed as the Frog hopped towards the window. He lunged for it and missed, and the Frog landed on the window.

"It's going to escape," Ron warned just before a pale blur slammed into the window.

The pale cat caught the Frog, the just as easily sprang off the window and landed neatly on Harry's trunk. It put the frog down and pinned it down with one paw, while it bit off the Frog's black legs. It gave Harry a look as though to say 'that's how it's done', as it licked chocolate from its red-stained muzzle. The cat picked the frog back up and hopped to Harry's bench where it dumped the frog, leaving it scrambling feebly around. After a few seconds it fell still as the charm expired. The cat sniffed, then returned to its blood pop.

"Really weird cat," Ron said.

Harry nodded, "Any idea who it belongs to?"

Ron shook his head and gestured towards the famous wizard card. "Did you get Agrippa?"

"No, Dumbledore," Harry said.

"Oh, I've got him. Can I have a frog? I met get Agrippa."

Harry nodded and Ron opened a box, neatly plucked the frog out of the air, and broke its back legs. Turning away from where his new friend was tormenting the animated chocolate, Harry turned the Frog card over and read:

Albus Dumbledore

Currently: Headmaster of Hogwarts  
Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times,  
Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the  
dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the  
twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy  
with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore  
enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

He turned the card back over. The portrait was empty. "Hey, where did he go?"

Ron looked over at Harry. "Well, you can't expect him to sit around all day, can you?" He looked at the card in his hand as he sucked on a Frog leg. "No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. You want it? You can start collecting."

The door slid open as Allie ducked into the compartment and collapsed onto the beach across from Harry's.

Ron slid away from her until he was pressed up against the window. "Why aren't you off toadying with your new friend?" Ron asked.

"Draco doesn't have friends, he has minions," Allie said disgustedly. "Besides, every other sentence of his began 'my father'. It was getting tiring."

Before Harry could respond the cat hopped up onto his trunk and dropped the stick from the blood pop and sat staring at him expectantly.

"You want another one?" Harry asked.

The cat blinked its sapphire-colored eyes at him.

"Weird cat," Ron muttered as Harry unwrapped another blood pop.

"Who's a weird—" Allie began, then stopped. "Kami. What are you doing here?"

The cat turned and blinked at her.

"Your cat?" Harry asked.

"No," Allie said firmly. "She shows up to annoy me and then vanishes just as quick. I thought she lived in an apartment on the floor below mine."

"So you don't want her?"

"Not particularly," Allie said, getting up. "Look, I'm going to go check on the twins, okay?"

The cat looked up at her briefly as Allie left, then returned to lapping at its second blood pop.

"Is she crazy?" Ron asked abruptly.

Harry frowned at him, "Allie has her own way of doing things."

The compartment door opened and Padma and Parvati poured into the compartment. "There's a pint-sized teacher out there patrolling the train cars," Parvati announced.

"Ron, Parvati and Padma Patil," Harry said. "Parvati, Padma; Ron Weasley."

Both nodded brief 'hello's as they dug through their trunks for robes

"Allie's looking for you," Harry said. "She just left, in fact."

"We'll go looking for her later," Padma assured him as they slammed the lids closed, and disappeared again out the door.

"Are they always like that?" Ron asked.

"Padma only when she doesn't have a book. Parvati…pretty much," Harry said. "Have you heard of the Malfoys before?"

The door opened and Hermione popped back into the compartment.

"From my dad," Ron said, ignoring the bushy-haired girl. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. Dad doesn't believe it, says they didn't need an excuse to go Dark." He turned to Hermione, "Can we help you with something?"

"I only came in because some people are acting very childishly. Racing up and down the passages shrieking," Hermione sniffed. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know? You should change soon. I expect we'll be arriving shortly."

"My," Harry said, recalling a book he'd just finished reading in his Primary's library before that fateful zoo trip as Hermione left the compartment again. "People do come and go quickly here." He shook his head.

"So what do your brothers do?" he asked, searching in his trunk for his robes. "You said Charlie did something with dragons."

"Well," Ron said. "Charlie is in Romania studying dragons. He's a great Seeker, could have played for England. And Bill is in Egypt, he's a Curse Breaker for Gringotts. Say, did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, someone tried to rob one of the high security vaults."

Harry stared at him. "Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing! That's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. Apparently they didn't take anything either. My dad says it must have been a powerfully Dark wizard to break into a Gringotts vault and get out without being discovered, much less caught. Of course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry and Ron quickly changed into their long robes as a voice came on saying that they'd arrive in five minutes and everyone was to leave their baggage in the train.

They stumbled out onto a small, dark platform, and Harry shivered against the chill.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A voice said as a lantern came bobbing over the head of the kids.

Harry recognized it from their brief meeting in Diagon Alley.

"Hagrid!"

"Harry! You all right there!"

"I'm wonderful!" Harry said.

"Right then—you stick close and follow me," Hagrid said. "Any more Firs' years? You lot watch yer step and follow me!"

He led them down a path so dark Harry thought there must be thick trees towering above them on either side. The lantern bobbed before them, but aside from something to follow it didn't seem to cast any light on the path. Nobody made much sound aside from Neville who sniffed once or twice.

The path wound down and around until they ran out of ground at the side of a great black lake. Mountains, dark silhouettes against the star-studded cloak of night, seemed to frame the far end, but Harry suspected that they were actually further off than that. Across the lack from where they stood, perched on some sort of cliff overlooking the lake, was a castle. Light, welcoming and warm poured from its windows.

"Right now, no more than four to a boat. You there, did you misplace a toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville said happily. "Thank you, ah…"

"Hagrid, this is Neville Longbottom," Harry said.

"Please teh meet yeh, Neville," Hagrid said. "Why don' yeh find a boat with Harry?"

Harry found himself in a small boat with Hermione, Neville, and Ron. The Patil twins quickly claimed the next boat followed by Allie and a boy Harry didn't recognize.

"Everybody in? Right then, FORWARD!"

The boats started to drift across the glassine lake. Ripples trailed behind them as small waves burbled at their bows.

"Wow," Harry breathed.

"They do set you up to be impressed, don't they?" Allie asked from her boat. She was trailing her hand in the water, and when she pulled it out, gossamer strands of some glowing stuff, like the sticky remnants of a spider web though much less substantial, trailed from her fingers.

They sailed towards the sheer cliff that Hogwarts was perched on top of until Harry thought they were going to run into it.

"Heads down, ever'one," Hagrid's voice came, and they all ducked as the boats sailed through a thick curtain of ivy that hung from the cliff; totally shrouding a passage cut into the stone.

They drifted through a series of natural caverns until they reached an underground dock and the boats scrapped up on a pebble-bed lining the shore. Hagrid led them along a path through another cavern and they spilled out onto cool, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They went up a flight of steps to a great wooden door which he pounded on three times.


	6. Chapter 6: Home

**Chapter 6: Home**

"A home is not a mere transient shelter: its essences lies in its permanence, in its capacity for accretion and solidification, in its quality of representing, in all its details, the personalities of the people who live in it."  
-H.L Mencken

The door opened immediately and a witch in emerald-green robes with black hair pulled back into a severe-looking bun stood in the light. She had a face as severe-looking as the bun, and Harry's first impression was that she was not someone to cross.

"The Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

She pulled the doors wide and gestured them in. The entrance hall was so big that the Dursley's entire house would have been lost in it. Torches, like those in Gringotts, burned along the walls and the ceiling was lost in shadows somewhere far above. A magnificent staircase of polished marble led to upper floors.

McGongall led them across the flag-stones. Harry heard the hashed murmured of hundreds of voices from a set of doors to the right. Apparently the rest of the school was already in attendance, but she led them past the doors to a smallish chamber.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said as they crowded somewhat more closely together than they might have otherwise. "The start-of-term banquet will commence shortly; but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you must be Sorted into your houses…"

She continued to deliver what sounded to Harry like an extremely well-rehearsed speech. Considering how antiquated Diagon Alley and the train were, Harry would not have been surprised to discover it had been the same speech that greeted the very first class of students.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each is named for one of the four Founders of Hogwarts, has its own Noble history, and has produced outstanding wizards and witches…"

Harry glanced over to find Padma standing next to him. "Do you think—"

"Shh," Hermione hissed, staring at McGonagall with a rapt expression. "It's the traditional Welcome to Hogwarts speech! This is the very same speech penned by Rowena Ravenclaw to greet the very first class of students. I read about it in _Hogwarts_, _a History_."

"The Sorting will commence if a few moments. I suggest that you do your best to smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her gaze lingered on Neville's cloak which was fastened near one ear, and Ron's dirt-smudged nose. "I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he whispered to Ron who had been standing behind him and trying to keep Harry between himself and Hermione who was now correcting Neville's cloak, but would undoubtedly have turned on his dirt-smudged nose had she seen the other boy first.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but he might have been joking…I hope."

A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet—what one earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. Harry looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who now whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need to an increasingly panic-struck Neville Longbottom.

"It'll be all right, Harry," Allie said as she brushed past him.

"Allie, what—"

"Relax," she smirked at him.

"Relax?" he repeated, not caring at all for how his voice squeaked.

"It can't be anything _too_ bad," she said reasonably. "People have been coming here for almost a thousand years. If it really were painful, don't you think they'd have put an end to it by now?" She glanced at Hermione, "And unlike Granger most of the people coming her don't really know any practical magic yet, so that's off the table." She raised her voice, "and since people clearly survive to graduate I doubt any of us will be wrestling a troll."

Padma snickered as Ron's ears turned red. "Twins?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

"Twins?" Harry asked. "You mean Parvati?"

Padma shook her head. "Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, are prankers. Troll-wrestling is just the kind of thing they'd come up with."

"Oh, so you knew Ron already?" Harry asked. It hadn't seemed like it on the train.

Padma shrugged. "Most of us in pureblood families know each other already, Harry, even if only in passing."

Professor McGonagall returned, and the ghosts that had shown up to argue about whether or not to give some being named 'Peeves' a second chance slowly trickled out of the room through the walls, floors, and in one case, a student.

"Form a line," Professor McGonagall told them, "And follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him; until Padma and Ron squeezed into the line ahead of and behind him. They were lead out of the chamber, across the entrance hall, and through a set of large double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never dreamed of such a place. The long hall was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles, all hovering in mid-air over four long tables where the rest of the students sat. A fifth table on a small dais over-looking the student tables was reserved for the staff. Each table had a snow-white table-cloth trimmed in two colors that Harry guessed must be used to tell the houses apart. Gold platters and crystal goblets gleamed and glittered on the tables and stone walls—polished to glass-like smoothness—gleamed a gentle honey-like color in the candle-light.

The faces of the students, Harry saw as McGonagall led them up to the dais, glowed like lamps in the candle-light, and to avoid looking at them he stared up at the ceiling. It was like someone had draped it in purple velvet so dark it was almost black, and then charmed little lights in it to glow like stars; and for a moment, that's exactly what he thought had happened. Then he heard Hermione whisper: "It's charmed to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, a History_."

McGonagall placed a stool in front of the staff table, and set a wide-brimmed, exceedingly battered-looking hat on it. It was old and frayed with many patches that had been patched-over in turn, and really quite dirty. If his Aunt Petunia saw it in her house, Harry thought, she'd probably have a heart attack.

Then its brim ripped open and it began to _sing_. Harry tried to keep up with the song—something about caps and hats and the four houses—but he was too busy trying to take it in. Seeing Diagon alley had been an odd experience, but he hadn't really seen any magic as he thought it would be like. The Patil's dishes and the invisible barrier to Platform 9&¾ had been like something out of the rare glimpses he got of movies that the Dursleys watched on the telly. Allie's apartment had been magical, but he'd been too busy waking up and not a little scared for what he'd seen to really sink in. But a singing hat? A hat that was somehow going to tell him what house he was in? That _had_ to be magic. And not an awe-inspiring, scary piece of magic, or something out of a movie, but more…_real_ somehow.

McGonagall strode forward with a long roll of parchment, "When I call your name you will place your hat on your heard and sit on the stool to be sorted." She looked down at the parchment, "Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blond pig-tails stumbled out of the line. The hat fell past her eyes and for a moment nothing happened. Then the brim of the hat opened and it shouted: "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table with black and yellow borders on their tablecloth erupted in cheers, and Hannah replaced the hat on the stool before jumping down to join them where she was soon joined by: "Bones, Susan".

Terry Boot was sent to Ravenclaw—blue and bronze borders—where he was joined a moment later by Mandy Brocklehurst; and then 'Brown, Lavender' became the first new Gryffindor and was cheered to her new House by a table with red and gold trim.

Harry noticed that it took longer with some people than with others; Seamus Finnigan spent almost a minute under the hat before being sent to Gryffindor, and Hermione spent even longer on the small stool before joining him. Ron was clearly dismayed by this, but he kept his displeasure down to a groan. Draco Malfoy was the fasted Sorted, being sent to Slytherin before the Hat even touched his head.

Harry watched as "Moon, Nott, and Parkinson" went up, two boys and a girl. Moon became Huflepuff, but the other two joined Slytherin and then it was Padma's turn and she was made a Ravenclaw. That almost settled the issue of which house he wanted to be in for Harry. He wanted to be with his new-found friends and it was clear that Allie wasn't going to be sorted until the end; but then Parvati, after a moment, was placed in Gryffindor and Perks, Sally-Ann took her turn under the hat, and then it was…

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward before he realized he was moving and the hall hushed into furious whispers as he took his place on the stool and lowered the hat over his eyes

"Hmm," a voice said in his ear. "Difficult, very difficult. Not a bad mind, I see, and you've got a good deal of courage. Loyalty too, at least to some people, and a thirst to prove yourself."

"Um…who are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm the Sorting Hat, didn't you listen my song? No, I can see that you were too busy looking around. That's all right, magic takes some getting used to if you aren't familiar with it. It's my job to place you in your House."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Now, where to put you, hmmm. I daresay that you'd be good for Ravenclaw. It'd do a world of good for those intellectuals who live in the Tower of Ivory and Silver to have to deal with someone more apt to the practical workings of magic. But as good as you would be for them I doubt the same could be said of them for you.

"You'd do well enough in Gryffindor, oh yes. Plenty of courage. There's Talent oh my goodness, yes—and a thirst to prove yourself, interesting, perhaps Sly—"

"Not Slytherin," Harry whispered, thinking of Malfoy. Ravenclaw or Gryffindor sounded good.

"No?" the Hat asked. "Why ever not? You could be great, you know, and Slytherin will certainly help you on that path—"

"I don't want to be great," Harry said. "I don't want to be famous. I just want to have friends and be allowed to be me."

The Hat fell silent. "I see," it said at last. "In that case neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor will suit you well."

"What?" Harry blurted out loud.

"One will be expecting you to work towards greatness," the Hat told him. "The other…the other will push you towards it. No, if that is how you feel about it then there is only one place for you. _HUFFLEPUFF_!"

It took Harry a moment to realize that this last had actually been said aloud, and he hopped off the stool and placed the Hat on it before walking down toward the Hufflepuff table as the entire hall watched in dead silence. Just before he reached the table it suddenly exploded into applause and a girl he recognized as being sorted earlier waved him over. A boy about Allie's age stood and shook his arm vigorously as he approached and Harry found a seat next between him and the Fat Friar who patted his arm and left it feeling like he'd dunked it in ice water.

Meanwhile: Thomas, Dean—a black boy even taller than Ron—had gone to the Gryffindor table while Turpin, Lisa had joined Padma at the Ravenclaw table. And then it was Ron's turn. His freckles shown against pale skin that had taken on a faintly green cast, and a second latter he stumbled away to join his brothers at the Gryffindor table. Finally Blaise Zabini was made a Slytherin, and only Allie was left.

McGonagall looked at her list and then up at Allie and pursed her lips.

Dumbledore stood, "Hogwarts prides itself in offering the best magical education there is," he said solemnly. "Rarely do we send students off to transfer to other schools, even more rarely do we accept them. This year we have a new student who is some years older than the other first years; a student who has had the rare opportunity to undergo an intensive period of study in a particularly obscure, but no less fascinating, branch of magic. She now joins us to further her own magical education and share some of her knowledge with us. Our last Sortie is Miss Elissa Blackthorn."

Allie took a seat on the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

Harry wondered what the Hat was saying to her, but no sooner had he thought the question than Allie spoke.

"If you want to know something, Sorting Hat, the polite thing to do is _ask_."

"That may be," the Sorting Hat said aloud from its perch atop her head. "But Sorting is dependent on what's inside of you, what makes up your character. I have to discover what you are made of—"

"Sugar, and spice, and everything nice," Allie replied dryly. "It says so on the label."

The entire school tittered.

"Ms. Blackthorn," Dumbledore said from where he'd reclaimed his throne-like chair. "Will you kindly let the Sorting Hat sort you?"

"You want me to take down my magical defenses, lower my shields, and lay my mind bare so that some thousand-year-old magical construct—that smells like it hasn't been washed in almost as long—can go traipsing through my mind without even a 'please'?" Allie asked.

The hall tittered again.

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead, "_Please_."

Harry watched Allie sigh and pull out a locket from her robes. She fiddled with it for a moment, then let it hang against her chest. "One word, Hat," she said loudly, "and I'll drop you in a tub full of bleach."

The Sorting Hat said, "Understood," then seemed to scrunch up. It scrunched up more. Several stitches popped, a patch fell off, a seam partially separated, and it shuddered before gasping out: "_Slytherin!_"

Allie fiddled with the locket again and tucked it back inside her robes, then stood and returned the hat to the stool. "Bleach," she repeated warningly, then bounced down to the Slytherin table.

The hall was silent.

"She can't do that," the girl hissed from the other side of the table.

"Looks like she did it anyway," Harry observed. "Harry Potter."

"Susan Bones," the girl supplied.

Padma, who was sitting almost directly behind Harry at the Ravenclaw table, twisted in her seat to look at them. "You never met Allie, Sue? She's like that, " she said. "Take it from me, if she says she'll do something the only reason she won't follow through is because she literally unable to."

"Don't call me 'Sue'," Susan said.

"Then remember that I—"

"—don't like being called 'Pad'," both girls finished together and chuckled at what was evidently a long-standing joke.

Albus Dumbledore stood again. "All of you older students will recognize that Professor Quirrell has reclaimed his post as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, I had some words to say to you, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you."

He sat back down as everyone clapped and cheered.

Harry glanced at the boy sitting next to him, "Is he mad?" he asked.

"Mad? He's a genius!" the boy said. "Cedric Diggory," he introduced himself. "Dumbledore is the greatest wizard there is," he continued. "But the greatest of minds are only very rarely normal—or stable, for that matter—ones, so he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef and roast chicken, lamb chops and pork chops, sausages, bacon and steak, potatoes (broiled, friend, and mashed), fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy (at least three kinds), ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

"That does look good," the ghost on his other side said sadly, watching as Harry piled his plate with some of everything except the peppermints.

"Can't you—?"

"I haven't eaten in centuries," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it," he sighed, rubbing his thick middle. "I don't think I've introduced myself? I am Friar Huberd, though most know me as 'the Fat Friar'." He looked down through his rather over-sized girth, "an accurate, though not terribly flattering sobriquet, I fear."

"Friar Huberd is the Resident Ghost of Hufflepuff Sett," Cedric explained.

"Pleased to meet you," Harry told the ghost.

"So—new Hufflepuffs!" the ghost went on, "I expect you will all do your best and help us win the house championship this year? We haven't quite set the record for longest stretch without winning it—we merely tied that at the end of last year—but I still remember the run of ill-luck in the sixteenth century. Now the Slytherins, they have won the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable—he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy, who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too happy with the arrangement. Allie sat on the other side of the ghost and did not seemed at all bothered with her companion, and appeared to actually be conversing with it more than her fellow students.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked.

"I've never asked," the Friar replied. "It isn't something that can be politely done. Asking how one dies. It's a very personal experience. Now, everybody knows about Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Resident Ghost of Gryffindor Tower. He moans about it quite frequently. He had an unfortunate encounter with an inept executioner with a dull axe—actually, it was a back-country woodsman and the axe was better suited for taking limbs off trees than heads off necks, but you didn't hear that from me—almost five hundred years ago."

Harry nodded and glanced across to the Gryffindor table. Parvati was eating in the manner he had grown accustomed to; just as voracious, though more neatly, than Ron appeared to be. Between them was a ghost with a very large ruff. Ron asked the ghost something and it grabbed its head and lifted. The head fell to one side, held on by a scrap of incorporeal skin, and giving a _very_ good glimpse of the internal workings of the human neck, though oddly rendered in black-and-white after the pearly grey of the ghost's exterior.

As everyone finished, the remains of the food faded from the plates leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of—and quite a few that you couldn't—apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," Susan said. "The Bones have been around for a long time, but unlike some other families we've never cared if someone was magic-born, half-born, or muggle-born." She grinned, "The family has an album of photos of reactions of those muggles marrying in, you can't legally tell them about magic until they're married into it," she explained for the muggleborns at the table, "So it comes as a bit of a shock."

The others laughed.

"It was for me," a boy a little taller than Harry said. "Justin Finch-Fletchy," he added. "A bit of a shock doesn't do it justice. Didn't believe the first letter, we thought it was someone having a go at us. We're pretty well off and you wouldn't believe some of the stuff people send us. The next morning an owl delivers my letter right into my eggs. Mum starts screaming and Cook is trying to chase it out while Dad calls pest control…it was a right mess. Utter chaos. And _then_ we read the thing…

"It took me ages to convince my parents to let me come. I was down for Eton, see?"

There was more laughter as Harry and Hannah Abbott, who had been the first person sorted, tried to explain to Ernie Macmillan and Samantha Roper how significant Eton was. In the end it was Justin who came back to their conversation and straightened Ernie out. "It's the equivalent of Hogwarts in the muggle world, Mate," he explained. "Absolutely the best there is. There are other schools, of course, there have to be considering the number of people in the muggle world, but Eton is right at the top."

Tuning out Wayne Hopkins' and Cedric's conversation on classes he turned to look at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin who he took a moment to recognize as the other teacher he'd met in Diagon Alley.

It happened very suddenly. Professor Snape looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes—and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" Cedric.

"N-nothing."

Cedric frowned slightly, but didn't say anything.

The pain had faded as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look—a feeling that he didn't much care for Harry.

"I met Professor Quirrell in Diagon Alley," he told Cedric. "He seemed…really nervous. What are the other teachers like?"

"Nervous? Quirrell?" Cedric asked. "He was covering for Professor Burbage last year and wasn't here the year before last, took some sort of sabbatical…" he craned his head towards the high table. "I don't recall him being nervous." After a moment he shrugged and turned back to Harry.

"The short fellow is Professor Flitwick, he teaches charms and is Head of Ravenclaw. Used to be some sort of dueling champion in his youth, if I recall correctly. He's fun, energetic, and quick-witted. The witch next to Professor Dumbledore is Professor McGonagall."

"Deputy Headmistress," Harry said.

"Right, she's responsible for sending out everyone's letters," Cedric said. "She teaches transfiguration and is Head of Gryffindor. She's fair, but strict. Of course, her subject can be a bit dangerous. Not at the level you'll be learning at right now but advanced transfigurations can have very unpleasant side-effects if you do them wrong.

"Since you already know Quirrell, the man next to him is Professor Snape, he's head of Slytherin and teaches Potions but he doesn't want to—everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts…" Cedric said. "He's smart, but his teaching style…leaves something to be desired."

"Oh," Harry said. The man sitting at the high table looked like the man he suddenly remembered meeting in Diagon Alley, but that Professor Snape had seemed helpful, not particularly sociable, perhaps, but very…intense, Harry decided. This one seemed very upset and unable to do more than scowl, maybe because he hadn't gotten the Defense Against the Dark Arts job? And why did Professor Snape make his scar hurt now when he hadn't when they'd met in Diagon Alley?

"…and Arithmancy respectively, both are third-year electives. The short, stout witch in grey is Professor Sprout who teaches Herbology and is our Head of House. Next to her, continuing towards the center, are Professors Sinistra and Hooch. Sinistra teaches Astronoy, while Professor Hooch is our flying instructor and referees the inter-house Quidditch games."

"Flying instructor?" Harry asked. Wizards and Witches drove airplanes? He suppose magic was as good reason as any for how the large metal constructs managed to stay in the air, though how they managed to keep the mundanes from knowing he had no idea.

"Brooms, of course," Cedric said. "A lot of magic-born wizards and witches come here thinking they already know how to fly but there are usually two or three who've been doing it wrong the whole time." He nodded back at the table, "the wizard with the peg leg, hook for a left hand, and the eyepatch is Professor Kettleburn and he teaches Care of Magical Creatures, another elective. It looks like Professors Burbage and Trelawny didn't make it down, they teach the other two electives, Muggle Studies and Divination. As I said, Burbage was gone last year, Quirrell taught her post, though honestly MS is something of a joke though what the joke is depends on whether you are muggle-born or magic-born. I can't say that Trelawny's absence is unusual, she almost never shows herself out of the North Tower. Binns, who teaches History of Magic is a ghost so I'm not surprised he isn't here either. I'm not sure where Burbage is though…"

Harry thanked Cedric, but all he felt was like he'd been left with more questions than answers. He silently observed the high table for the rest of the meal, but Professor Snape never looked at him again and at length the desserts disappeared and Dumbledore climbed to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Just a few words now that you're all few and watered. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few that did.

"He's not serious," Harry muttered.

Susan frowned, "He doesn't appear to be joking."

Cedric nodded. "It is odd," he agreed, "He usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. The forest's full of dangerous beasts—everyone knows that. I wonder if he told the Prefects anything."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a flick and a ribbon shot out of it. It rose into the air high above the tables and twisted itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

The Hall bellowed as students and teachers took off in a couple of hundred different tunes. Some took it at a rapid pace, trying to get through it in a rush. Others, like Harry, struggled along and tried not to let their chosen tune get mixed up in somebody else's. Finally there were only the Weasley twins were left singing a slow, somber funeral march. Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily away as he conducted the last few lines with his wand, and when the duo had finished, he was one of the ones who clapped the loudest.

\|/\|/\|/

A fifth-year Prefect named Eric Bryce led them through a bewildering maze of corridors and passages and stairways until Harry was thoroughly confused and left with the feeling that they had looped on themselves at least twice—and became positive of it after they passed by a large painting of a bowl of fruit no less than three times—before being left at a dead end in front of a painting.

"This is the Campfire," Bryce said, indicating the painting of a small clearing in a forest at night. People filled the clearing, some dressed in forest tones, others in bright colors, some danced, while others played instruments, and a great many of them feasted and drank. In the center was a roaring bonfire.

"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw both have towers, and Slytherin commons is somewhere in the dungeons under the lake," Bryce said. "We Hufflepuffs have the Sett. Now, there are passages leading from the common room to many different parts of the school. Getting out is easy, but unless you know each one's secret, you can't get back in. All of those passages will only open for someone wearing the Hufflepuff badge and then only if they know how to open that entrance."

"What are the secrets then?" Wayne Hopkins, who was even shorter than Harry, asked.

Bryce smiled. "This is the main entrance," he said without answering Wayne's question. "The secret for this one is that there is no secret. You just walk into the painting and you're in the Hufflepuff commons. Try not to get lost in the forest." He turned and stepped up into the painting and disappeared.

Harry exchanged a look with Justin, then hesitantly stepped up to the painting and reached out. The painting was solid under his fingers.

"Well?" Susan asked.

"Seems solid," Harry said.

"Solid, right," Ernie said. "I've seen a looking-glass like this once; they only come across as solid if you act like they are. Harry, it's just like Platform 9&¾, just walk into it like it isn't there."

Harry nodded and stepped into the painting and found himself in a forest, dark trees stood on either side of him, their branches blocking out the stars above but he could see a campfire burning merrily in a clearing ahead of him. He took another step, and then another, the clearing didn't seem to get any closer but four steps later he emerged in a room that was low-ceilinged and warm. The walls were a soft golden-colored wood that curved out from the floor and then in until they weren't walls but the ceiling. A dark reddish-brown wood served as floors and circular beams. A great stone fireplace took up most of one wall, and a multitude of circular passages led off in different directions, some with stairs going down and others with stairs going up. The room was filled with comfortable and sturdy-looking couches and armchairs that occupied the center of the room with tables that ranged from seating one or two, up to a monster capable of seating two dozen, against the walls.

"I see you made it all right," Bryce said. "Everyone here? Good. As you noticed there's no password on that door. We assume if you know how to find it, and how it works, then you are supposed to be here."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Finding it can be a little tricky, but if you get lost any other Hufflepuff or the Fat Friar will be glad to help you on your way, either to here or to any class you need to get to. Same goes for most of the ghosts, but let me warn you, Peeves is worth two dead-ends and a trick staircase if you ask him for help." Bryce waved around the room. "The internal geography can be a bit confusing. Hogwarts likes to rearrange itself without warning, but you'll get the hang of it in a couple of weeks. The teachers understand and most of them won't punish you if you're a little late for the first few lessons.

"Feel free to explore during your free time. Hogwarts has loads of secret passages and chambers, and I don't think that even Headmaster Dumbledore knows everything about this place. The burrows that make up the sett," Bryce gestured towards a few of the corridors, "are an easy way of getting around, but they don't go everywhere. Also, they are really twisted around and like to rearrange themselves just as much as the rest of Hogwarts so it can end up taking longer to get into them, come here, and then use them to get to your next class than it would be to get to your next class through the more public corridors."

He pointed towards another pair of corridors, "Through there you'll find practice rooms, a couple of potion labs, and a library. The practice rooms and labs have a list of what spells and potions you can work on by yourself, which ones you can work on with a partner, and which ones need an older student to watch you. The list updates by what your year is and what you're covering in class. Just tap it with your wand to find out what you are allowed to work on. If the list says you can't do something, don't try to do it."

Bryce paused to let that sink in. "Okay, library. Common sense rules. There isn't anything spectacular on the shelves—I've been to the Ravenclaw Commons once and they have a library that is almost as grand as the Hogwarts Library—but there are a lot of the more common reference materials you'll be needing, as well as the more commonly checked out materials. If you use something, put it back. There is also a separate exchange shelf. If you take a book from that shelf it's yours to keep, but you are expected to leave a book on the shelf in return for someone else.

"Announcements for clubs, Quidditch try-outs, and the like, will be posted on the bulletin board." He indicated a cork board next to the entrance passage. "Now, girl dorms are to the left, boys on the right, your dorm will have your year on it," Bryce gestured towards two more passages.

Harry and the other boys followed a corridor that spiraled to the right but didn't seem to change in elevation or cross on itself. Circular doors were set into the walls, each with a plaque listing not only the years, but the names of the residents. At the end of the corridor they found a door marked 'First Years'. Their room was, like apparently most everything in Hufflepuff, circular. There were six four-poster beds with thick black and yellow velvet hangings. Each had a trunk at its foot, a bedside cabinet with a big brass alarm clock, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. Above each of the nightstands was a small circular window, and a second door led to a bathroom.

Tired from the journey and meal each was barely able to pull on their pajamas and get into bed before falling asleep.


	7. Chapter 7: Potion Man

**Chapter 7: The Potion Man**

"The chemists are a strange class of mortals, impelled by an almost insane impulse to seek their pleasures amid smoke and vapour, soot and flame, poisons and poverty; yet among all these evils I seem to live so sweetly that may I die if I were to change places with the Persian king."  
-Johann Joachim Becher, Physica subterranean (1667)

Harry was awoken the next morning by Wayne Hopkins throwing a pillow at him. . "Wha' ya' do 'hat for?" he asked, in a very sleepy voice as he rubbed his bleary eyes.

"Practice," Wayne said. "Have to get ready for Quidditch, I'm a Chaser."

"First years aren't allowed to play on house teams," Ernie said from across the room.

"I know, that's why I'm starting training now," Wayne said. "Besides, don't you smell it?"

"Smell what?" Harry asked, pushing himself up and sniffing. He didn't smell anything.

Wayne grinned madly. "Breakfast."

The balled mass of covers and blankets that was curled up in the center of the bed to Harry's right twitched and a moment later Zevon Moon's head poked up like a periscope out of deep water. "Food?" he asked.

"Food," Wayne repeated.

Zevon's sheets went flying every which way and there was a mad scramble for the door.

"I think I'm going to dislike mornings," Harry said, burrowing back under the covers.

The brass alarm clock went off.

"Correction: I hate mornings," he muttered darkly.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry found a seat next to Justin at the Hufflepuff table with Ravenclaw and Slytherin behind him, and facing Gryffindor table where Ron Weasley had moved an entire serving platter in front of himself. Hermione had arrived with a rather large book and was studying it while eating her eggs, and Harry wondered when she'd had time to visit the library because he didn't recognize it as any of their assigned textbooks.

Harry turned in his seat to find that most of the Ravenclaws had brought reading material to breakfast, while the Slytherins seemed content to trade surly looks with each other and everyone else around them. After a moment he turned back to where Ron and Seamus were loudly arguing the merits of football versus quidditch and had managed to drag Justin and Ernie into what sounded like a cross-house debate on who'd win if West Ham were to go up against the Chudley Cannons. The current polls from the rest of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables seemed to favor West Ham, no matter what sport they were playing. At the same time as the sport-debate, Parvati and another girl seemed to be immersed in a conversation about some magazine that Harry had never heard of and had dragged in Megan Jones—a half blood—so that they had a third perspective.

Professor McGonagall came by with their class schedules and Harry examined his while digging into his breakfast. He quickly noticed that while some classes were single, others were double which meant that they lasted twice as long and were held with another house. Some classes (notably Astronomy and Potions) were only double classes, while History was the only class that did not have a double block. The rest seemed to be a mix of the two, having long double-classes in the morning, and shorter single-classes in the afternoon (save for when they were switched around with the long classes in the afternoon and the short ones in the morning) except for Astronomy which we held Thursday nights. They were paired with Gryffindor in Herbology and Slytherin for Charms and Astronomy. Double Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration sessions were held with the Ravenclaws.

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table again, but didn't see Allie. He had thought of inviting her over, but her absence conveniently decided him against it. He didn't know if it was against the rules or not, but it didn't look like anyone else was sitting at another house's table and the sport debate and magazine discussion aside there were very few conversations going on between peoples of different houses. It didn't bode well for inter-house friendships, he thought, hoping he hadn't annoyed his new Headmaster only to find that he wouldn't be able to continue his friendship after all.

"We have double Transfiguration first," Hermione said loudly enough to be heard from the Gryffindor table. "I do hope you're all prepared. I picked up some books at the library…"

Harry double-checked his own class list, expecting to find Charms at the top.

It was.

It also wasn't until tomorrow as the first had fallen on a Saturday.

"When did you have time to go to the library?" Ron asked.

"Before breakfast, of course," Hermione said as Harry glanced back up from his schedule.

"Oh, of course," Ron said.

"Well, I'm going to go," Hermione said, packing up her book and stuffing it into an over-filled book bag. She staggered slightly as she hoisted it onto her back.

"Got enough books there?" Parvati asked.

"Well, I didn't know what classes we were going to have, now did I?" Hermione asked.

Harry snorted, a second year had been waiting in the common room to tell the first years that Charms was always the first class that first year Hufflepuffs had. It made sense that the Gryffindor first years always started with the same class as well. So why didn't the other first year know what her first class would be?

As it was, he had both the _Book of Spells, Grade 1_ and his Transfiguration book in his bag. They looked like the most exciting of his books and the weather looked nice, and he had been anticipating exploring the grounds and maybe doing a little reading just to prepare for classes.

Parvati snagged the last sausage from the platter near her before Ron could get to it. "Do you even know how to get there?"

Hermione hesitated, "Do you?"

"Nope," Parvati said cheerfully. "It's why I'm not going now. Got a whole day to find it."

"But…classes, we don't want to be late," Hermione said, and Harry watched as she bit her lip and looked down the table. "Maybe we should ask a Prefect for—"

"Ask, shmask," Parvati waved it off. "We can find it perfectly well on our own."

"But…"

"You do realize we don't have any classes until tomorrow, don't you?" Parvati asked.

"We…oh," the other girl looked crestfallen. "Well, I suppose we can still find out where the classrooms are."

"Hey, Cedric?" Harry asked as he stood up

The fourth year glanced at him from up the table.

"How do you get to Transfiguration?" Harry asked.

"Huh, usually our firsties get Charms first," the older boy said.

"We do, but my friends have Transfiguration," Harry explained. "They want to find the classrooms for tomorrow."

Cedric glanced at the indicated Gryffindors, then shrugged and briefly described how to find the Transfiguration corridor. Hermione pulled out a fresh scroll of parchment and sat down to copy out a brief map.

Cedric grinned, "Don't put too much faith in maps. They aren't good for long. Hogwarts moves things around too much."

Hermione did not seem at all happy to find out that her map would quickly become useless if it wasn't already. "Right then, let's go," she said briskly.

"Already?" Parvati asked.

"You wanted to spend the whole day searching for it," Hermione sniffed.

"Yeah, 'cause I thought I'd have some fun exploring while I searched," the other girl said.

"Fine, we'll go," Ron said loudly as he stood up. "Let's stop by the tower first though."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we didn't know what classes we were going have, now did we?" Parvati asked sweetly.

Hermione huffed, whirled around, and strode briskly from the hall.

"I don't think she likes you," Parvati told Ron.

"Me?" Ron asked. "What did I do?"

"We might have to rethink our study plans."

Harry turned to find Padma standing behind him and staring disapprovingly at the retreating Gryffindors.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Granger," she stated. "That girl already found the Library. When did she have time to do that?"

"This morning apparently," Harry said.

There was a howl of outrage, and the two turned to look at Slytherin table. Everyone who had been seated there now had red and gold-striped hair. Malfoy said something about looking like a weasel. Allie was there as well—though her empty plate suggested she had only just arrived. She twisted only lock of hair into a coil around a finger and peered at it closely for a moment, then gave the Weasley twins a distasteful glance, stood, and left the hall.

"How was your night?" Harry asked, turning back to Padma.

"Lovely," Padma said. "I have to find out if I can take my bed home with me. I've never had hangings before and my bed is so bouncy I bet I could clear ten feet if I got a good running start. Where are you heading for tomorrow morning?"

"Double Charms," Justin said.

"Padma, Justin Finch-Fletchy," Harry introduced them. "Justin, Padma Patil of Ravenclaw."

"Charmed," Justin said.

"Not for another day," Padma replied with a grin. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, a second-year told us that first-year Hufflepuffs always have Charms as first class," Justin said.

"Really?" she cocked her head.

"You didn't grab every book and your potion supplies, did you?" Harry asked. "I grabbed Transfiguration and Charms in case I got a chance to do a little reading."

She shook her head, "Astronomy obviously has to be at night. I brought books for Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and History."

"Not Potions?"

"Potions, right away in the morning?" Padma asked. "Nobody is that cruel."

\|/\|/\|/

Cedric's map was still good on Monday, but by the next morning the staircase that had taken Harry from the second floor up to the fifth instead let out in the dungeons, and going back down let out in the second right-hand side corridor on the third floor instead. Even when Hogwarts wasn't rearranging itself to some unspoken whim, finding classes was difficult. There were a hundred and forty two staircases in Hogwarts—by Harry's count at the end of his first week—some broad and sweeping, others narrow and rickety; some with only one landing, others with landings on several floors; a few you could ascend to a floor below the one you had started on, or by walking down them you could finish on an upper floor, some led to different places on Friday (or perhaps led to somewhere else the rest of the week and Friday was the one day it went where it should), some had steps that vanished half-way up that you had to skip over or be stuck in until someone helped you out. At least three of the staircases were 'one direction only' and you'd find yourself walking into a wall if you tried to go back up (or down) them, even if you were halfway between floors.

And after you were familiar with the stairs, Harry found, there were the doors. Doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely or tickled them in the right places, and doors that you couldn't see at all because they were pretending to be walls. There were doors hidden behind paintings, at least two painting that were hidden behind doors, doors that required passwords and doors that wouldn't open until you answered a riddle or told it a joke, and some doors that weren't doors at all but walls that were pretending to be doors. Nothing in the castle stayed where it should, and it wasn't just the walls and stairs and corridors. The people in the paintings were constantly coming and going to visit friends, and Harry was certain that the suits of armor and statues could walk.

The ghosts weren't a help either. The Fat Friar was always happy to help a student find a class, but he was always describing yesterday's routes and they often didn't match up. Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor Ghost, was more helpful but you had to tolerate his bemoaning of poorly trained headsmen and improperly sharpened axes unless you were in Gryffindor and had already heard all of his many speeches on the subjects. The Grey Lady of the Tower of Ivory and Silver (as Ravenclaw Tower was called by some) ignored pretty much everyone, and nobody, except maybe Allie, had the courage to ask the Bloody Baron for directions. Even worse than the frequently scary Slytherin ghost was Peeves the Poltergeist who was, as Eric Bryce had promised, worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class.

Once you had learned to navigate Hogwarts' confusing internal geography, there was still the caretaker. Harry had only run into Mr. Filch and his scrawny cat Mrs. Norris once, but that once had been more than enough. He'd found himself in a warm, damp, and extremely cramped office, filled with a desk, two chairs (one of which was so uncomfortable Harry was sure it was charmed that way), and a seemingly endless number of filing cabinets. There was barely room enough to breathe, much less walk, and Harry had been subjected to Filch managing to do both while he reminisced of the Old Days when he was still allowed to torture the students while he showed off his collection of branding irons until the Fat Friar popped in through the floor—and Harry's legs—to tell the caretaker that Harry was needed in herbology.

And once you found them there were the classes themselves. Every Thursday at midnight the Hufflepuffs had to study the skies through their brass telescopes and memorize the stars and movements of planets. Herbology was taught three times a week by a dumpy little witch named Professor Sprout in a series of greenhouses behind the castle, and learned to take care of all manner of strange plants and fungi and what they could be used for.

History of Magic was easily the most boring class. In fact it was about as dull as anything dealing with magic could be. It was even duller than his fourth year primary teacher who never managed to speak above a soft drone. The Professor was a ghost, apparently the only one on Staff. Binns had taught History of Magic for as long as living memory could recall, then had died one day in the staff room and his spirit, trapped in the mind-numbing routine it had followed in life, had gotten up as a ghost and continued teaching it. It was possible, Harry thought, that one of the other ghosts could remember a time when someone else taught it, but it didn't seem likely. Rumor had it that he'd actually taught the four Founders history, and it was common belief that he saw anything that happened after 1576 was 'recent' and thus not worth talking about in class. Aside from the fact that the class was dreadfully boring Harry also noticed that, like his fourth-year primary teacher, Binns had a habit of talking in a dull monotone that was better at putting his students to sleep—or at least so the seventh years swore—than any sleeping potion. Those that managed to stay awake scrambled to scrawl down dates and names and got Magmog the Mostly Mad mixed up with Sogsag the Slightly Sane.

Charms was taught by a tiny little man called Professor Flitwick who had to stand on a pile of thick books to see over his desk. On the first day he started by taking roll, and when he got to Harry's name he gave an excited little squeak and toppled out of sight.

Harry quickly found his initial impression of McGonagall had been quite right. She wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever she gave them a talking to the moment the bell rang. "Transfiguration is some of the most useful, complex, and dangerous, magic that you will learn in Hogwarts. Anyone messing about in my class will leave, and will not return."

Then she transfigured her desk into a pig and back. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but it quickly became apparent that they wouldn't be changing furniture into animals anytime soon. A long series of complicated-looking notes followed, but unlike in Binns' class Harry had no problems staying awake and copying them down. Then matches were passed about and they were set to transfiguring them into needles.

By the end of the lesson several people had managed to make their matches pointy. Harry hadn't, but his _had_ taken on a silvery color. Only Padma managed to do both but it lacked an eye for thread. McGonagall gave her a rare smile as she showed it to the class.

Friday was a big day for Harry. It was the first day that he and his dorm-mates had managed to find their way down to breakfast without getting lost or having to ask for directions. He wasn't particularly surprised to find Allie already sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Several of the other Hufflepuff's had looked askance at her presence, but when Harry made it clear she was his friend, and that she wasn't going to cause any trouble, they'd shrugged their shoulders and more or less accepted that she'd join them for breakfast. Privately Harry was grateful she did otherwise he'd have hardly had a chance to see her outside of Charms.

They were just sitting down to breakfast when conversation in the Hall stopped. The castle held its breath as the Slytherins came in and sat down in one solid block. There had been a number of practical jokes already, and while the initial blitz seemed to target students almost at random, for the last two days Slytherin house had borne the brunt of the pranks. Two days before they had come in with their robes glowing an eye-watering bright orange striped with a dull pea green, and yesterday they'd sat down for breakfast only to spend the rest of the day talking, and taking notes, backwards. That had actually been dangerous as spells came out backwards as well and a number of sixth years had to go to the hospital wings after a weather moderating charm instead summoned a miniature tornado that had ransacked half of the Charms corridor and caused classes to be delayed all afternoon. After a moment when nothing happened, Hogwarts seemed to sigh and noise in the Great Hall returned as the other students resumed conversations.

Harry was just turning to ask Allie how things were going in Slytherin when someone shouted from behind him: "Stay away from him you slimy Snake!"

Harry turned, curious to see who had gotten upset and about what, to find Ron standing behind him. The other boy's ears were tinged pink, and his hands were balled into fists.

"I beg your pardon?" Allie asked in an icy voice.

"What's going on, Ron?" he asked, only for Ron to ignore him and continue shouting at Allie.

"You heard me, this is your fault," Ron said. "You're trying to kill Harry."

"She's _what_?" Harry asked, totally bewildered.

"She's a no-good slimy snake, Harry," Ron said, finally turning to him. "If she'd been sitting by you in Charms and she'd done that to you…"

Harry winced at the memory of his first, and rather…spectacular, Double Charms lesson. After Flitwick had taken the roll he'd given a complex series of notes and sent them to practicing conjuring sparks from their wands. Allie had not succeeded in getting her wand to send up sparks. She had, however, conjured a wash of lurid purple flames that quickly reduced her desk to ash and burned a seven inch-deep, perfectly circular, hole in the floor before Professor Flitwick had been able to extinguish it.

He saw Ernie and Justin watching, the former with his wand out and resting on the table, and shook his head. The last thing Harry wanted to was drag his house and dorm-mates into the inter-house feud that Ron seemed eager to continue for another generation. Cedric gave him a pointed look, but after a firm nod the unofficial advisor to the first-year boys shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.

"Let me get this straight," Allie was saying to Ron as Harry turned back to his friends. "You're suggesting that I tried to kill Harry in class, during the first lesson on the very first day of school, right in front of the Charms Professor, who, I should add, was a world-class duelist when he was younger, with some piece of dark magic that was aimed at him? But," she continued, "I was so incompetent, that instead of attacking Harry, who was seated on the other side of the room, I burned down my desk instead?"

"You weren't there, Ron," Harry said as the tips of his friend's ears turned pink. "It wasn't like that. It was an accident."

"Oh yeah?" Ron asked. "No ordinary magic can make stone burn, Harry. That's powerful Dark Magic, that is." He turned back to Allie. "Good plan, too, get into class with him. I bet you know all kinds of Dark Magic. All that special studying you said you did."

"Weasley," Allie said softly as she smirked at him. "If I'd studied half the Dark Magic that you seem to think I studied, were I in your place, I'd be very careful about irritating me."

"Don't threaten our brother," one of the Weasley twins said, suddenly appearing at Ron's sides as they sprang to his defense.

"Yeah, only we get to torture him," the other side.

"Oh please," Parvati said from the Gryffindor table. "Allie wasn't threatening him. She just pointed out that _if_ Ron's assumptions about what types of magic she'd studied were correct he should show a little care in how he addresses her. I mean, you're accusing someone of studying and using the Dark Arts to her face, that's not exactly something conducive to a long and healthy life."

"Wow," her sister said, moving in from Ravenclaw.

"What?" Parvati said.

"You used 'conducive' in a sentence," Padma said. "That's not all your brother did," she said, turning to Fred and George as Parvati huffed, crossed her arms, and glared at her. "He accused her of _using_ the Dark Arts openly, and ineptly, in front of a teacher of Professor Flitwick's quality, and he did it to her face. I know Gryffindors aren't known for their intellects, and _are_ known for shooting their mouths off without thinking, but even for your house that displays an amazing lack of sense."

The Weasley twins frowned. "She has a point, Ron," one said.

"Snape likes her, what other proof do you need?" Ron demanded.

Harry hadn't had Potions yet, but if even half the stories he'd heard were true he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Ickle Ronnikins has a point too, oh Brother o' Mine," the other said.

"True, very true," the first agreed.

"Professor Snape isn't nearly as bad as you give him credit for being," Allie crossed his arms.

"He gave you points for messing with Neville's potion," Ron accused.

"I gave Ms. Blackthorn points, Mr. Weasley," Snape said silkily from behind the youngest Weasley present, "because she kept Mr. Longbottom's potion from melting his cauldron and dousing half the class with a solution that would have melted the lab tables—thus incurring expensive damage to school property—and raised boils on anyone it touched. Her quick thinking, reaction, and knowledge of the few, simple, extremely…_basic_ instructions that I gave, merited rewarding."

Ron's face had twisted up, first in shock, then in horror as Snape spoke in a voice so soft that conversation around them stilled and the students strained to catch each word.

"Your…ineptitude," Snape went on, "in letting your partner add porcupine quills to the potion while it was still on the fire, and thus putting the entire class at risk, merited much more than the few points I deducted from you. Especially since Ms. Granger," he turned and affixed his gaze on the other first-year Gryffindor who sat frozen like a deer in the headlamps of a car, "Was telling you what to do instead of paying attention to her own work like she was supposed to."

Snape surveyed them all. "I do believe the Ravenclaw table is over there, Ms. Patil."

"Just talking to my sister, sir," Padma said.

Snape's mouth tightened and he flicked his gaze onto Allie. "And your reason, Ms. Blackthorn?"

"I figured this conclave of the student body had to have at least one Slytherin representative," Allie said.

Snape didn't say anything for a moment. "You have five minutes, Ms. Blackthorn, or I shall be forced to take points from my own house. Ms. Patil, the same." He turned and stalked off, his cloak flapping out behind him like bat wings.

Ron glared at Allie again, then he and his brothers stalked back to their table.

"Do you know why Ron doesn't like you?" Harry asked Allie.

Allie shook her head, "I don't know. Most of the name-calling seems centered on the fact that I'm in Slytherin. I've heard some talk in the Slytherin Common Room, about how the other houses and the professors are out to get us, but frankly I don't give it much credit."

"Oh," Harry said, turning back to his breakfast. He was just smearing marmalade onto toast when Hedwig appeared and dropped a letter in front of him. She had turned up with the other post owls at breakfast before to nibble on Harry's ear and nick a bit of toast before flying back to the owlery, but this was the first time she'd brought Harry anything. He took the note from her leg and gave her a piece of bacon to eat while he read the course scrawl that invited him to Hagrid's hut for tea at three.

He borrowed a quill from Hannah to jot down _yes, please, see you later_, and sent it off with Hedwig to return to Hagrid. He hoped that Professor Snape would go easier on them than he had appeared to go on the Gryffindors, and Cedric had told them that Professor Snape saved most of his animosity for the lion house so he had some hope. Still…the man had looked distinctly displeased to see Harry at the start-of-term banquet. So with much trepidation, Harry finished breakfast and set out in search of the Potion's classroom.

\|/ \|/ \|/

The potion's classroom was on the first level of the dungeons. Harry knew this because he'd traveled through no less than three levels of dungeons to find the place and he'd seen a stairway leading down to a _fourth_ level of dungeons. It was cold, and would have been creepy enough on its own, but shelves lined each wall, filled with jars of various creatures and… things, twisted and grotesque, floating in fluids ranging from clear and colorless, to poisonous green, to something that was unappealing shade of vomit-inducing pink and so thick you couldn't see what it preserved. There were the expected snakes and fetal pigs, and small furry animals, and quite a few that were not furry and only questionably animal, and several looked like malformed human babies.

Harry was just examining something green and squirming in a bottle of what looked like water mixed with a little rancid milk, when someone tapped his arm. He jumped, grasping for his wand and found Padma standing behind him with an amused expression on her face.

"Jumpy?"

Harry gestured at the bottle he'd been looking at and Padma's nose wrinkled. "I'm sure it's used for something," she said though she didn't sound too sure of herself.

"Besides scaring students?" he asked.

She nodded, and indicated another jar, "Poisoned dragon's liver… Do you think they poison the whole dragon, or just the liver?"

"Both?" Harry suggested weakly. "Hagrid invited me to tea at three…want to come?"

Padma nodded, "Parvati has class free as well, would you mind if I—"

"No, not at all," Harry said. "She's my friend too, you know. What about Allie?"

"If you see her," Padma said, moving to an open lab bench and began unpacking her potion things. "I have no idea where the Slytherins live."

"Somewhere in the dungeons and under the lake, I was told," Harry said. "Would you mind working together?"

"No, not at all," Padma said, grinning at him.

Then Professor Snape entered the classroom with his robes whirling about him and things became quite a bit worse.

After meeting Professor Snape in Diagon Alley, Harry had been rather looking forward to Potions Class. Afterall, even Mr. Patil had said that the man was brilliant. That had changed at the feast. Snape had glowered at the first years throughout the Sorting, and the look he had given Harry during the feast itself caused Harry to suspect that Professor Snape disliked him. He was wrong. Professor Snape did _not_ dislike him—he out-right _loathed_ him. Whatever it was that had made him courteous, if abrupt, in Diagon Alley was absent, and his being in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor didn't seem to have any kind of moderating influence, or, if it did, Harry didn't want to imagine what it'd be like if he had been Sorted into Gryffindor.

Like Flitwick Professor Snape started by taking roll. When he got to Harry he paused and looked at Harry with black eyes; cold and empty and vaguely reptilian. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, our new…celebrity."

There were titters from most of the Ravenclaws in the classroom. Padma frowned at Snape, only to give a little jump when he looked up directly at her. His eyes were black, like Hagrid's and Allie's, but they lacked any of Hagrid's warmth or Allie's sarcastic, often irreverent, humor. They reminded Harry of the eyes of the lizards he'd seen in the reptile house at the zoo and of long, dark tunnels that had no exit.

He finished taking roll and then gave his students a look that left them feeling like they'd been examined and, at least in the case of the Hufflepuffs, had been found wanting. Harry got the feeling that the Ravenclaws were, at best, something that the Potions Master had learned to tolerate. "I am here to teach you the exact art and subtle science of potion-brewing," he said. Like McGonagall he had a flare for keeping his students' attention with very little effort. Unlike her, Harry thought, his words had softly stressed sibilants.

"As there is very little wand-waving foolishness in this class, many of you will hardly consider this magic. I don't expect that you will understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, betwitching the mind, and ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence. Harry and Ernie—who was seated at the next bench over—exchanged looks. Padma sat at the edge of her desk, eager to prove that she wasn't a dunderhead. Most of the rest of the Ravenclaws look similarly ready, though one or two seemed bored with the overly-dramatic monolog.

"_Potter_."

Harry jerked his head back to Professor Snape.

"What would I get, Potter," Snape hissed, "If I were to aid the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Padma's hand shot and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ernie roll his eyes at the girl. "I don't know," he said, then added, "sir."

Snape's brow furled slightly and his lips twitched but not enough to relieve the dark scowl he directed at Harry. "Tut, tut," he said tonelessly. "Clearly, fame is not everything."

"Let us try again, Potter. Where would you look if I were to instruct you to look for a bezoar?"

Padma's hand stayed stretched as high as she could reach without leaving her chair for orbit, and it was joined by the hands of several other Ravenclaws, but she made a slight pointing gesture towards a door in one wall with her other hand.

Not an office since Snape had come from a third door and the first had led to the hall so… "The supply closet, sir?" he asked.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape sneered, "A point from Hufflepuff for cheek." Still ignoring Padma's quivering hand he asked in a silky voice, "What, Potter, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this Padma's hand wavered, started to rise again, and ended up hovering somewhere just over her head as she bit her lip in serious thought.

"I don't know, Sir, but I think Padma might; why don't you ask her?"

A few people laughed.

Snape glared at Padma whose arm sank abruptly to the desk.

"Thanks a lot, Harry," Padma muttered.

Snape turned back to Harry, "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood result in a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone, taken from the stomach of a ruminant—most commonly a goat—that will save you from most poisons. And monkshood and wolfsbane are common names for the plant also known as aconite. Well? Why aren't you copying this down?"

There was a sudden rush for parchment and quills and over the sound Snape's voice said, "Another point for cheek, Potter, but I do keep a number of bezoars in the supply closet because my idiot students seem to enjoy poisoning themselves."

He paused and the room was filled once more with silence. "I only place orders for bezoars before the school year begins. It would be a…pity were they to run out before it came for me to restock and someone was in need of one."

Harry got the impression that if such were to happen Snape would instead declare a school party.

Then Snape tapped his wand on a blackboard and instructions for a boil-relieving potion appeared, and set them to work in pairs.

Things did not improve for Hufflepuff after that. Snape ignored the Ravenclaws, mostly, but he spared no effort to criticize the Hufflepuff first years as he swept around the room in his long black cloak. He'd disappear into shadows only to suddenly loom over a steaming cauldron to say "Much too hot, Bones", or "You are supposed to crush the snake fangs, Macmillan, not grind them".

Despite this and the points Snape had already taken, the class seemed to be survivable. Harry felt something warm against his chest as he finished stewing his horned slugs. He rubbed his robes and found a damp spot, likely from some splashed potion. A moment later there was a loud hissing like cold water being poured onto a hot griddle. Harry and Padma turned as gouts of acid green smoke billowed up from Zacharias Smith and Megan Jones' cauldron which had melted into a pewter puddle. The potion had splattered across the pair, as well as Zevon and Wayne, raising great red boils wherever it touched.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape as the potion melted through the bench. There was a sharp _clang_ as the blob of former cauldron hit the stone floor, and the potion hissed as it burned the legs of lab stools and holes in peoples' shoes. "I suppose you forgot to take the potion off the fire before adding the porcupine quills," he added, indifferent to Megan who had collapsed and was moaning in pain after being drenched in the failed potion, while he vanished the remnants of the potion with his wand.

Snape turned from them to glare about the room. "You—Potter—why didn't you tell them not to add the quills? I know for a fact that Ms. Blackthorn told you about that particular misstep at breakfast. Thought it'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Hufflepuff."

Harry started to argue, but Padma put a hand on his arm and pulled him back. "Don't push it; I heard Snape can turn very nasty."

Harry scowled, but backed down.

Snape sneered at him, then turned back to Wayne. "What are you waiting for, an ad in the _Daily Prophet_?" he asked, gesturing at Megan. "Take her up to the hospital wing."

\|/\|/\|/

At five minutes to three Harry was standing in the Entrance Hall waiting for the twins. Padma arrived at almost the same time he did, but it was almost three by the time Parvati showed up, out of breath and with Ron in tow.

"He wanted to come to," she explained.

Harry shrugged in response.

"Snape took seven points off him," Padma told her sister.

"Really?" Ron asked, "What'd you do?"

Padma shot the youngest Weasley brother a disgusted look.

Ron flinched and took a step back, "I mean, uh, cheer up, Snape's always taking loads of points off of Fred and George."

Harry didn't reply as they set off across the grounds.

Hagrid lived in a small stone hut with a thatched roof at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Next to the front door were a pair of galoshes, and either a small arbalest or a very large crossbow sat next to them. There was an empty paddock a short ways off, and a large garden complete with obligatory pumpkin patch and magically animated scare-crow that curved around one side from the back.

Cheerful puffs of smoke were coming from a crooked pipe at the top of the house when they arrived. Harry knocked on the door, and there was a frantic scrabbling inside punctuated by several booming barks.

"_Back, _Fang—_back_."

The door cracked open and Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared. "Hang on a mo'," he said. "_Back_, Fang." He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

The hut held a single, circular room. Hams, pheasants, onions, and drying herbs hung from the rafters. A copper kettle was boiling on an open fire, next to a happily bubbling black cauldron. Next to one wall was a bed larger than three of the dormitory four-posters pushed together, over which was thrown a patchwork quilt. There was an oversized set of table and chairs, with a similarly large teapot and tankard-sized teacups.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, turning to check the kettle and letting go of Fang.

Parvati and Padma squealed as the boarhound managed two bounding steps before jumping on Ron. Ron disappeared somewhere beneath the large dog, which promptly began licking his ears.

"Geroff, geroff!"

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into the teapot.

"No, tha's Fang," Hagrid said. He paused, "Fang?" he reached down and caught up the boarhound by the collar and pulled him back. "Another Weasley, eh? I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. What're yeh doin' on the floor?"

Padma and Parvati giggled as Harry helped Ron to his feet.

"And these and Padma and Parvati," Harry said. "But you've already met."

"So I 'ave," Hagrid said. "Let me set out some more rock cakes."

The rock cakes lived up to their name. At first Harry thought that Hagrid had made a mistake and set out actual rocks, but then Ron found a raisin that he swore broke his tooth. The tea was strong but Harry discovered it wasn't nearly as bad as the rock cakes, though all of them turned down Hagrid's offer of hippogriff milk. They pretended to enjoy the cakes while the four told Hagrid about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes while he crunched rock cakes that Harry slipped him.

Ron complained about his first lesson with Snape, where the Potion's Master had taken three points from Gryffindor between "Granger being a know-it-all" and Ron's "failure to point out the dangers of porcupine quills added to a cauldron still on the fire".

"It's a good thing Allie caught that, then," Padma said. "Zacharias Smith made the same mistake and Snape took points from Harry for it even though Smith was sitting two benches behind Harry. The cauldron melted, splashed potion everywhere. It burned clear through the potion bench and a couple of people got really nasty boils from it. Megan Jones had to be taken to the hospital wing. But he really seemed to have it in for Harry."

"Professor Snape don' really like any o' his students," Hagrid said.

"Maybe, but he really seemed to _hate_ me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why would he?" he asked, not meeting Harry's eyes and he quickly turned to Ron. "How's your brother Charlie? I liked him a lot—great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_.

"What do you have there?" Ron asked.

"An article about that break-in at Gringotts," Harry said as he read the clipping. "Padma, Parvati, this was the same day we were there."

"What's it say?" Parvati demanded.

"Just that the vault that was broken into had been emptied earlier that same day," Harry said. "This could have been happening while we were there."

"Does it say what was in the vault?" Ron asked.

"Just that it was emptied," Harry frowned. _Important business, needs me ter clear ou' a Gringott's vault fer 'im._ He looked up at Hagrid who was pouring more tea and avoiding Harry's gaze. Could it have been that whatever Hagrid had gone to retrieve had been in the vault that had been broken into?

As they trudged back to the castle, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, this question was joined in Harry's mind by others. Had Hagrid collected the package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?


	8. Chapter 8:Consequences and Rule Breaking

**Chapter 8: Consequences and Rule-Breaking**

"If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun."  
Katharine Hepburn

So that was it. Harry wondered dejectedly what they were going to tell the school when he suddenly disappeared. _Harry Potter was expelled for trying to do the right thing_, probably, or something similar at least. He wasn't certain how Neville's remembrall had ended up on the grass, but it probably had something to do with that accident that Ron had been talking about. Well, actually he had talked mostly about the fight after Madam Hooch had dragged the injured Neville away and the points Professor McGonagall had taken from Gryffindor. Between that and the deductions from Professor Snape Ron hadn't broken the record for most points taken during the first month at Hogwarts—currently his brothers were co-holders of that particular record—but he was well on his way to getting there.

But then Zacharias Smith…

Harry shook his head. If there was one type of person he detested it was a bully, and he'd lived with the rumors that Dudley had spread long enough to realize that those who bullied someone behind their backs were even crueler than those who did it to their face.

He considered this as he walked. Yes, Smith had said rude things about the Gryffindor, but unlike Dudley Smith hadn't gone out of his way to belittle Neville on any other occasion the way Dudley had hounded him. Until the incident Harry wasn't sure if Smith even _knew_ Neville. Nor had there been any real malice in what the other boy had said either, or at least Harry wasn't sure if there had been or not.

And yet somehow the…casual indifference of Smith's remarks seemed to make the whole thing even worse, in Harry's mind.

Trying to back Smith down after he'd found the magical device and threatened to smash it was a matter of…principal. Harry toyed with the word in his mind for a moment, his Horoscope-of-the-day said he shouldn't let go of them and he wondered if this was what it had meant.

It was as good a word as any, he decided with a shrug, though he probably could have handled the situation better. How, exactly, he wasn't certain. Reasoned calm hadn't achieved anything, nor had being polite, but they hadn't exactly worsened it. That hadn't happened until Justin and Ernie had stepped up behind him and Susan had tried to reason with both of them, and then the Ravenclaws, seeing a chance to drive a wedge in the Hufflepuffs' normally rock-solid house unity, had stepped in…

How it had gone from Zacharias Smith threatening to smash it to Morag McDougal throwing it into the air for them to catch as a demonstration of broom skills while Madam Hooch escorted Sally-Anne to the hospital wing, Harry had no idea.

He'd won, scraping his knuckles on the side of the castle as he got between it and the remembrall. His entire left side felt like one massive bruise where he'd slammed sideways into the stone when the braking charms on the broom didn't slow him down fast enough. It could have been worse. If Professor Sprout hadn't come out right then and put a cushioning charm on the ground after he lost control following his collision with the school…

Justin had probably had the right of it. Brooms were bloody dangerous things to be flying around on.

Harry shook himself from his musings as Professor Sprout turned and started up a staircase that, being Tuesday afternoon, led to the transfiguration wing.

It really was the perfect end for the thoroughly horrible day he had been having.

He had been looking forward to his first broom-flying lesson ever since Bryce had told the first years that lessons usually started up in the second week to give everyone a chance to acclimate to the school. But Professor McGonagall had assigned them a foot-long essay the day before, and Professor Flitwick had set them to practicing common wand movements—and the less said about Professor Snape's schoolwork the better. Allie had apparently come down with something and had looked absolutely miserable the few times he'd seen her in the halls between classes, and Ron had stopped talking to him because of his friendship with 'that slimy snake.' And then, once they had gotten out of the classes, they found the weather had settled into the kind of oppressive grey overcast that said 'I really need to rain' but didn't, and instead made everything cold and clammy and miserable.

Harry started to ask where they were going, but was stopped as Professor Sprout suddenly turned on him.

"Do you have any idea how incredibly foolish that was?" the short witch demanded. "Of all the insane, reckless, _dangerous_ things you could have done…" she turned and continued up the stairs. "You've never been on a broom before today?"

"Not that I can remember, Professor," Harry said.

"Hmm…"

They stopped before the Advanced Transfiguration classroom and Professor Sprout knocked on the door.

The door swung open and she popped her head in, "Mind if I borrow Ms. Capper for a moment Professor McGonagall?"

Apparently Professor McGonagall didn't mind because a moment later an older girl Harry vaguely recognized from the common room came out. She was a little taller than Professor Sprout with a solid frame, a square jaw, blond hair, and a nose that was crooked from being broken on more than one occasion. She reminded Harry of a friendlier version of one of his Aunt Margie's bulldogs, but only slightly friendlier.

"Professor Sprout, what's going on?" she asked with some surprise. She glanced down at Harry, then back up at her Head of House. "Its N.E.W.T. year and you know I—"

"How do you feel about winning the Quidditch Cup?" Professor Sprout asked, uncharacteristically interrupting.

The girl frowned, "We're rebuilding this year, Professor. I'm hoping to leave the team in good position for next year…why?"

Professor Sprout didn't reply, just got very bubbly as she headed down the corridor. Five minutes later they poked their heads into the Hufflepuff common room.

"Diggory, we need you outside," Sprout said.

Harry followed them up to the entrance hall and out onto the grounds. The two older students traded questioning looks, but otherwise walked in silence while Professor Sprout had a bounce in her step that was almost, but not quite, a skip. He couldn't imagine what she needed the older two students for. Cedric was something of a mentor for the first-year boys, someone older who didn't have the awe-inspiring seniority of Bryce, the Junior Hufflepuff Prefect, who was responsible for them, but he had never really met Capper. He knew she wasn't a Prefect, and wasn't the Head Girl—a Ravenclaw held that honor this year.

The dread feeling was slowly easing. Surely they'd be going to the Headmaster's office if Professor Sprout had felt like expelling him. But he couldn't help but feel uneasy at this unexpected turn.

"I've found you a replacement Seeker," Professor Sprout said abruptly.

"A what?" Harry asked before either of the other Hufflepuffs could respond.

"Did you really?" Cedric asked, giving Harry a curious look.

"He's got the build for it," the girl said after a moment.

"So does any first year, for that matter so do most second years," Cedric said, "unlike myself," He half-waved towards himself. He was taller than Harry by a not inconsiderable amount, and his broad shoulders hinted at the build he had yet to grow into.

"Can someone please explain to me what you are talking about?" Harry asked. "Am I not being expelled?"

"Expelled?" the girl asked.

Harry crossed his arm, "Yeah, I got on the broom when I wasn't supposed to, okay? No need to mock me."

"Nobody's mocking you, Harry," Professor Sprout said soothingly. "I'd like you to consider being on the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. It'd be a tremendous amount of work, that's why first years normally aren't allowed to be on the team, but it seems as though you have the knack for it."

"What exactly did he do?" the girl asked.

Sprout took out the remembrall. "He caught this in his hand after a fifty-foot dive—Charlie Weasley couldn't have made that catch—on his first time up on a broom."

The girl looked intrigued while the boy took the remembrall and tossed it lightly in the air before catching it again.

"Be careful with that," Harry said. "It belongs to a friend."

"Who?" Sprout asked.

"Neville Longbottom, he's in Gryffindor," Harry said as the girl passed it to Cedric. "See? His name's inscribed on it. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he had broom lessons."

"Hmm," Cedric considered it, then handed it to Harry who put it carefully in his pocket. "It's larger than a snitch, easier to spot too."

"What's a 'snitch'?" Harry asked.

"Have you ever seen a game of Quidditch?" the girl asked.

Harry shook his head. "Ron tried to explain it on the train, but…" he shrugged.

"The basics are easy enough," the girl said. "It's a game, played on brooms, by two teams of seven people. Three people, chasers, try to throw one ball through one of three identical hoops on their opponents' side of the field. Each team has one person, a keeper, who tries to keep that from happening."

Harry nodded.

"Each team also gets two beaters who each have a bat. There are two more balls that are charmed to fly around randomly and try to knock people off their brooms. The beaters try to protect their team's players while sending those balls after the players on the other team."

"And the last person?"

"The last person is the seeker," she said. "His primary duty is to catch the last ball, the golden snitch. It's about the size of a walnut, wicked fast, and darn near impossible to spot. The game ends when the snitch is caught, and that team gets one hundred and fifty points."

Harry frowned, "That many points seems unbalancing."

"It can be," Cedric shrugged. "But there are a lot of teams that only win, and then by very small amounts, because their seeker catches the snitch—and I've been to games where one side wins even when the other team gets it. But really, wins doesn't factor into standings. Games are played in series. The number of points picked up in a series determines overall standings. There was one season ten or twelve years ago, I think, where Ravenclaw lost all of its games but took the Quidditch cup because its combined point total was more than that of any of the other House Teams. For that matter the Winborne Wasps posted more losses than wins last year, but their point totals were enough to get them the third seed in the post-season."

Harry looked at Professor Sprout, "And you want _me_ to play?"

Professor Sprout nodded, "I think you'd do very well."

Harry frowned, "I bet there are a lot of people loads better than me."

"Decent seekers are a sickle a score," the girl said. "Great ones…those are harder to come by." She offered her hand, "Samothrace Capper, Quidditch Captain. Call me Thrace."

Harry shook it.

"This is Cedric Diggory," Thrace said. "He used to have your job."

"He did?" Harry asked, confused. "But I don't want, I mean," he turned to Cedric. "You can keep it…if you want to."

"That's the point, Harry," Cedric smiled. "I _don't_. I'm good on a broom, Harry, but—"

"But Ced's too modest," Thrace rolled her eyes. "He's probably one of the top three flyers in the school. The problem is that his best position is chaser and before now we just didn't have anyone else who could play seeker reasonably well. If you're even half as good as Professor Sprout thinks it means I can move Cedric back to Chaser and reshuffle our entire lineup."

"Move Scott to reserves?" Cedric asked.

She nodded. "He needs another year of seasoning and that way he can be slotted in as one of the Chasers next year after Tonks and I graduate." Thrace turned to Sprout. "We'll have to find a good broom for him, Professor, Merlin knows the school brooms are useless. I'm tempted to go for a late-model Nimbus."

"You'd over-broom him with something like that," Cedric said with a frown.

"Over-broom?" Harry asked.

"How much do you know about brooms?" Sam asked.

"They fly?" Harry asked.

Cedric chuckled. "It goes like this, Harry. Brooms are heavily enchanted to fly. Some brooms have more, or better, or more complex enchantments—the three aren't exactly the same—than others. Some have a higher top speed, others accelerate faster, and still others are more maneuverable. There is a tendency to look simply at those statistics when determining what broom is 'best'. In that sense over-brooming is when you put a flyer on a broom that is too powerful for their experience and ability, okay?"

"Makes sense," Harry said. "It means that they'll have accidents that more experienced fliers won't, right?"

"And that they can't get the full performance out of the broom," Thrace added. "However, there is another aspect to brooms that most wizards and witches overlook. The slump."

"The slump?" Harry asked.

"The slump is…complex," Cedric said. "It's even debated on whether it's real or something that only exists in the minds of Quidditch players and professional broom racers. You see brooms are sort of like wands. They don't 'choose a wizard'—to use Olivander's expression—but a broom that is ridden by a single wizard becomes more…attuned to that wizard. That connection between broom and rider is what we call the slump. The deeper the slump, the more attuned the broom is capable of becoming.

"You rode one of the school brooms, right? How did it feel?"

Harry frowned, "like I was riding a broom."

Cedric and Thrace laughed and Professor Sprout smiled.

"A _good_ broom feels like an extension of your being," Thrace said enthusiastically. "One of the reasons why the school brooms are so bad isn't because they're old, it's because they've had so many riders that they're senile. The main problems with some of the later high-end brooms is that either the slump is so deep that you might be able to get the full technical performance out of the broom but it'll be the broom doing most of the work so you don't really get any better as a flyer. Or, the slump is so stiff that it takes a long time to really attune.

"Not that they aren't desirable qualities," she added quickly. "A deeper slump is favored for some Quidditch positions by those who are already highly skilled. And a stiff slump is useful for some disciplines of broom-racing. They just aren't qualities you'd want in your broom as a new flyer."

"And the better I am as a flyer the…more I can get out of a broom, no matter what its…technical abilities are?" Harry asked carefully.

"Exactly," Cedric said. "I've seen some Quidditch players get well beyond what their broom's specified capabilities were supposed to be simply because they were excellent flyers and their brooms were highly attuned to them. There is a hard limit on what any given model of broom can do that even the best flyer can't get past, but it shouldn't be a problem for you any time soon if you haven't flown before."

"So ideally I need a broom with fairly good technical abilities and not a really deep or stiff slump," Harry said.

"By Merlin, I think he's got it," Thrace said.

"What will happen if I do get one with a lot of slump?" Harry asked. "It'd pick up on my bad habits?"

"Not as such," Cedric said. "What would happen would be the broom doing more of the work so you wouldn't really be improving as a flier."

"Okay, so…what kind of broom would you recommend?"

"Mid-range Cleansweep?" Sprout asked Thrace. "Maybe a five or six?"

"Six," Thrace said with a shake of her head. "The five is more of a beater/keeper broom, stable and maneuverable, but the acceleration rate drops off fast after the initial burst. Maybe a Comet deuce-sixty, that's what the Claw's new reserve seeker is using."

"I will talk to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Merlin knows we need a better team than last year, rebuilding year or no. _Flattened_ in that last match against Slytherin, I couldn't look at Severus for weeks…not that Minerva's lions did any better."

Professor Sprout gave Harry a stern look that was mostly ruined by a broad, dirt-smudged smile. "I want to hear that you're training hard, Harry, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

She turned and started to head down the hall with a little skip in her step, only to stop suddenly and turn back. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was quite the Quidditch player himself." She turned and continued down the hall, humming a bubbly little tune.

\|/\|/\|/

"You're _joking_," Ernie Macmillan said.

It was dinnertime and Harry had just finished explaining to his housemates what had happened after he'd left the grounds with Professor Sprout. Ernie had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but had completely forgotten about it.

"Seeker?" Justin asked, "What's that?"

"_Seeker_?" Ernie repeated his friend's question while Susan Bones tried to explain Quidditch to the muggle-born Justin. "But first years are _never_ allowed—you must be the youngest house player in about—"

"—a century," Harry finished. "Thrace told me." It felt a bit unusual calling someone so much older by their first name, but it was apparently the custom to do so in Hufflepuff, at least amongst themselves. The single exception seemed to be one seventh year that Cedric had introduced a 'Tonks' who was also on the team as one of the Chasers. On meeting Harry she had said 'Wotcher', shook his hand, and then threatened grievous bodily harm if she ever heard him mention her first name.

"When do you start training?" Wayne asked.

"Next week," Harry replied, "Only don't tell anyone. Thrace has completely shuffled the lineup and wants to keep it, and me, secret."

The others traded dark looks.

"Hufflepuff hasn't won the Quidditch cup in ages," Ernie said.

"Sixty-eight years," Susan chipped in. "My Aunt was on the team. She said the only reason they took the cup was because the Gryffindor Team came down with scofungulus and had to be quarantined during one of their matches, and Slytherin forfeited a match when an accident in potions caused half the team to start laughing like a pack of hyenas.

"And historically-speaking, if you get the Quidditch cup you have a better than even chance of getting the House Trophy. Can anyone think of when Hufflepuff last had _that_ trophy?"

Harry traded blank looks with the others at the table but most of them shook their heads.

"It's been ages, I know that much," Ernie said. "A century, maybe more?"

"More," Allie said from behind him. "Can you move over so I can sit with my friend?"

Ernie frowned at her, but he moved his place setting over. "How much do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"How much do I know about what?" she returned blandly before turning to Harry. "So, I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thanks," Harry said, shaking the proffered hand. "So, er, you do know about…well, what happened?"

"Not everything, of course," Allie said. "Hogwarts has a fast rumor mill but it isn't quite that fast and Hufflepuff has done a fair job keeping the news in-house, so to speak. Besides," she grinned suddenly, "Unlike what some people seem to think—" she gave a pointed look over to where Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table "—I'm hardly running a spy ring to gather Quidditch secrets." She paused for a moment, then shrugged, "Not that there's been enough time to establish much of a network if I was."

"Then how do you know about Harry?" Ernie asked.

Allie didn't reply.

"Please?" Harry asked. "If the secret gets out…"

"It'll hardly be the end of the world," she observed dryly. "But since you asked, Harry, it wasn't any one thing. Professor Sprout was seen dancing in her greenhouses, your Captain has suddenly booked the Quidditch pitch solid through for the next week, Cedric Diggory checked out all of the books on brooms and broom catalogs even though according to Marcus Flint—who is captain of the Slytherin team—he just got a new broom last year."

She grabbed a plate and helped herself to some mashed potatoes, to which she added a very generous blob of butter. "Professor Sprout wasn't exactly subtle about it either, pulling one student out of class like that, and _then_ being seen walking through the halls with the Hufflepuff Team Captain and Seeker with you in tow, and not even taking points from you. You really should have seen about getting assigned a detention or something, although watching Draco froth at you getting away with rule-breaking is really quite amusing."

Harry traded looks with Justin and Susan while Allie sampled the potatoes. Justin gave a short shrug, as though to as 'what do you want us to do?' while Susan just gave him a grim look.

"Oh relax," Allie said with a grin. "I keep other peoples' secrets like I keep my own…as long as those I trust with them keep them in return." She gestured broadly with a fork covered in potato that was gilded with butter, "It's probably a bit late to get yourself a detention, though you might want to tell Capper to do something about those pitch reservations though."

"Shouldn't you be off crawling around with the rest of the snake pit?"

Harry frowned. None of his other Housemates had really had a problem with Allie once the novelty of a Slytherin joining him at their table had worn off. And this was the first time Smith had really said anything at all. But—

"Zacharias Smith, blunt _and_ rude," Allie said coolly before Harry could formulate a response. "Your reputation precedes you."

Smith flushed.

"You know each other?" Harry asked curiously.

"I know of him," Allie corrected with a shrug, "but then, I know of a lot of people. Why don't you introduce me to your friends?"

"Okay," Harry said. "Next to you is Ernie MacMillan, across from him is Susan Bones, and next to her is Justin Finch-Fletchley. This is Allie, er, Elissa Blackthorn."

"Call me 'Allie'," she said dryly. "Elissa came to a sticky end."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Elissa was a name that Dido, the Queen of Carthage, was known by," Justin said. "She stabbed herself and jumped in a bonfire rather than betray the memory of her first husband."

Allie blinked, "You've read the classics?" she asked.

Justin shrugged half-heartedly, but it was too late and Allie narrowed in on him.

"Finch-Fletchley?" she asked. "Of the—"

"Yes," Justin said tersely. "I'm surprised you know of them."

"Why?" Allie asked.

Justin looked over at the Slytherin table. "I have discovered that the wizarding world is very, um…_insular _compared to the non-magical. It was a bit of relief, actually, finding out that the only people who really know of my family are those that are non-magic-born." He grinned, "It was quite funny to see the expression on Father's face when he realized the same thing when Professor McGonagall took us to Diagon Alley."

"Which doesn't explain me, of course," Allie said.

"I had assumed you were one of those 'pure-blood' types," Justin said. "I apologize."

"Nothing to apologize for," Allie said. "You'll find that there a purebloods, and then there are purebloods. The former are those that define themselves by it, and then there are those who define themselves despite it. Fortunately there are more of the later, but the former are usually louder and more annoying."

"Speaking of which, isn't it…bad for you to be here?" Harry asked. "I've gotten the impression that Slytherins don't really approve of Hufflepuffs."

"Most Slytherins don't really approve of anyone or anything unless it gets them ahead," Allie said. "The older students in my house couldn't care less. Those that follow Draco Malfoy's way of thinking do not, currently, matter a great deal. As far as both are concerned I'm here furthering my own agenda, which is exactly what I told them I was doing."

"Are you?" Harry asked bluntly.

Allie grinned at him, "Well of course. Right now my agenda is congratulating my friend on breaking the rules, getting caught, and _not_ getting so much as a point taken. If you misconstrued that to mean congratulations on finding a spot on your house Quidditch time, well, I have no comment to make. All in all, I'd say I'm well on my way towards furthering my 'cunning little plan'."

Harry couldn't help but grin back at her and chuckle. Ernie, Justin and Susan all laughed, but the other Hufflepuffs—once reasonably certain that the snake in their midst wasn't Up To Something—had turn to their own conversations.

"Is that really what you told them?" Justin asked.

Allie shook her head as she filled a glass with pumpkin juice, "Of course not. Just that I was furthering a private agenda. What that agenda is, is none of their business."

"You lied," Susan said with a disapproving frown.

"No, I didn't," Allie said. "What I did was tell them something that was perfectly true and let them draw their own conclusions from it. It certainly isn't my fault if they came to the wrong ones and I'm not under any obligation to correct their…um, short-sightedness. Besides, in a way I'm doing exactly what they think I'm doing."

"Huh?" Ernie asked.

"She's making connections," Justin said, "Business connections. Not ones that are profitable now, but may be, _will_ be, so in the future."

"Very nicely put," Allie said, raising her pumpkin juice glass in a salute.

"I don't follow, Justin," Harry said. "I thought she was here because she's our, or at least _my_, friend."

Justin nodded, "That's it exactly, Harry. But look at us. Ernie here is a pureblood back what, eight generations you said?" he asked his friend.

"Nine," Ernie said.

"Nine," Justin said with a nod. "And Susan has an Aunt who is head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Harry, you're famous, your parents died in the last war making you a tragic hero."

"The Potters are a really old family and highly thought of," Ernie added.

"And I," Justin said, placing a dramatic hand on his chest, "well, the Finch-Fletchleys have done moderately well in business."

Allie choked on her pumpkin juice, set her goblet down, and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "'Moderately well in business?'" she repeated with a snort. "You've found all that in less than a week. Now it's my turn to be impressed."

Justin shrugged and didn't smile, "Yes, well… So how did you know about my family? From what you said you are a pureblood, right?"

"Allie spent some time living in the non-magical world," Harry said.

"Really?" Ernie asked with wide eyes.

"Master G, the wizard I was apprenticed to, didn't really care for the mainstream wizarding world," Allie said.

"You were in an apprenticeship?" Susan asked.

Allie nodded. "Never did get much of Professor Snape's 'wand-waving foolishness' so I'm not really ahead in the way of charms and transfiguration…as I'm sure you've all heard."

Harry grinned as the others laughed. It had quickly become clear that his friend was nearly as hopeless in those two classes as Neville Longbottom was in Potions.

Allie glanced towards the Slytherin table, then back at Harry. "I've got to go. I overhead Lee Jordan telling the Weasley twins he found a tunnel out of the castle. I followed him to where I think it is and I want to leave a little surprise for them for all the pranks they've pulled recently."

"Well that was interesting," Ernie said as Allie got up and walked briskly towards the entrance of the Great Hall. "Do you know what kind of magic she studied?"

Harry looked at him.

Ernie shrugged, "It's just that she seems to be…pretty bad at everything except potions."

Pretty bad, Harry reflected, didn't begin to describe it. Burning her desk in charms had simply been the most dramatic of her failures. In transfiguration she had yet to effect _any_ changes, in herbology any plant she touched wilted and died, and the school brooms had flatly refused to work for her.

"Oh," He said after a moment. "I know she studied runes, defense warding too, I think. I'm not sure. Some of it she was vague about and some of it went over my head." All of which, he decided, was perfectly true even if it didn't tell them anything more than he really knew. "I know she was pretty put out that she has to wait two years before she could study runes and arithmancy."

Ernie made a face, "What we study isn't hard enough for her?"

Harry shrugged, but before he could answer someone far less welcome turned up. Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?"

"Hello, Draco," Harry said blandly. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. How are you?"

Draco's smile became distinctly unpleasant. "You've heard about Smith, haven't you?"

"I've heard a lot about Zacharais, you'll have to be more specific," Harry said with a level voice that hid the nervousness he felt.

"He's getting off without even points taken," Draco said smugly. "I told you on the train, Potter, that you didn't want to be making friends with the wrong sort."

"Yes," Harry said. "That's why I have friends, and you have bookends."

Standing on either side of Draco, Crabbe and Goyle did look like bookends…or maybe very small trolls. But since they were in the middle of the Great Hall and the High Table was filled with teachers, there was very little they could do besides scowl and crack their knuckles.

"It's why Smith is still around and you are getting expelled!" Draco snapped.

"Potter's getting expelled?"

Harry glanced down the table. Hearing his name had apparently drawn Smith into their conversation.

Draco hesitated. "Well of course he is," he said. "Professor Hooch made it clear what would happen to anyone who left the ground."

"But Smith isn't being expelled," Harry pointed out. "And McDougal isn't either.'

"My father is on the Board of Governors," Draco said. "I told him about what happened and how they're refusing to enforce the rules. You're out of here, Potter, mark my words."

"Oh, well, as it happens I'm not being expelled," Harry said. "Professor Sprout decided that since it was a first offense she'd just give me a lot of extra work to do for the rest of the year…to keep me out of trouble."

Draco grinned, "She put you in _detention_ for an entire _year_?"

Harry bit a lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing, but couldn't resist egging on the other boy. "Well…she didn't actually call it _detention_, but…"

"Oh this is _priceless_," Draco crowed. "See you around, Potter. I have to tell _everyone_ about this!" He walked away from the table laughing.

Susan leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "You do realize that people are going to think that you—"

"Yes," Harry said, trying not to laugh. "But it's like Allie said, right? I don't have to go around correcting people when they make a mistake. Do I?"

"Merlin no," Ernie agreed. "If you did you'd be like—"

"—Granger has done now?" Ron demanded as he dropped into the empty spot that Allie had vacated only minutes earlier.

Harry couldn't help but noticing the suddenly forced looks on the faces of his housemates as Ron reached across the table to help himself to a chicken leg and tore a bite off before gesturing with the fowl limb for emphasis.

"She's insisting on creating study schedules, for all of us, _and_ she's badgering the upper years for their first-year notes."

\|/\|/\|/

Despite it being after curfew people were still awake in the Hufflepuff common room that evening. The fifth and seventh years were already starting to feel the pinch that preparation for the upcoming O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations would have on their free time. Sixth and fourth years were determined to get an early start on their schoolwork, while the third years were reading the textbooks for their new elective courses. All of these, as well as the new second years, were rereading the material from the previous year.

Not that studying was the only thing happening. Samothrace was crouched with Cedric in one corner, the two of them moving miniature Quidditch players around a model pitch using their wands as they talked furiously in hushed voices. Down by the fire a couple of students had broken out musical instruments and a dozen other Badgers were singing rowdy songs that outside of their immediate area had been magically quieted so they served as background music for those studying. Winifred Meles, the single fifth-year on the Quidditch Team, was teaching an obscure card game that included cards that magically changed their suit and value in mid-hand at seemingly random intervals. The first-year Hufflepuffs didn't have a class early on Friday mornings so Thursday evenings had, in less than two weeks, become a time for those that wanted to talk about what new experiences they'd had and interesting things they'd seen, heard, or learned.

Harry was just finishing a story about how a stair that had, on Tuesday, led up to the fourth floor had shifted so that on Wednesday led to the Forbidden left-hand corridor on the third floor where he had been caught by Filch, when bells began to chime softly. Where exactly the bells were—or even if there were bells at all—was a matter of some debate, but they only tolled when someone other than a Hufflepuff student was making their way down the primary entrance into Hufflepuff. The Professors, he'd been told, each had their own separate melody, as did those from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. So far Harry had only heard the Ravenclaw melody, something airy and cold that used a lot of high-pitched bells.

This was different. It used a lot of low bells in a strangely hypnotic melody.

"Grieg," Justin said.

"Excuse me?" Ernie asked.

"Muggle composer," Justin told his friend. "That's one of his better-known pieces. It's—"

Exactly what it was Harry didn't learn because the bells stopped abruptly as Allie stuck her head around the corner into the common room.

"You're out after curfew," one of the older students, a prefect, said.

"No, I _was_ out after curfew," Allie said, "now I'm simply not in the right common room after curfew." She looked around, "Nice place, much more inviting than the Slytherin common room though we have a better view of the lake."

"How did you find our common room?" Thrace demanded.

Allie shrugged, "You're the one with the open door policy, not me."

Thrace smiled a cold smile that reminded Harry of the look Dudley sometimes gave him. "Unless you have a very good reason for being out I suggest you answer the question…unless you'd rather explain lost points to your housemates?"

"Frankly I could care less about points. There are things more of more importance than a shining cup that is trotted out once a year."

"Maybe," another seventh year said. "Or maybe that's just the voice of someone who has seen it regularly trotted out for _them._"

"Since this is my first year here I couldn't tell you," Allie said blandly. She shrugged and added, "But since you're so curious about how I found this place the answer is simple. I asked the Fat Friar."

"And he told you, just like that," Thrace said.

"I told him I needed a friend's help," Allie admitted.

"My help, after hours?" Harry asked.

"Sure," she said, "mind you it isn't something you can help me with _here_ so if you don't want to go sneaking around after hours—"

"No," Harry said. "It sounds like fun." He stopped suddenly and glanced around the room, "Um…"

Thrace rolled her eyes, "Go."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Everyone goes exploring after hours sooner or later, Harry," Cedric said as the other older students chuckled or traded knowing looks. "I admit that most don't usually announce it to their whole House before they do it, though. Go, have fun, just don't get caught."

"Well if that's the attitude here, we could use one more," Allie grinned. "Preferably someone that's good at complex third-order switching charms utilizing runic symbols as point-anchors. A passable familiarity with runes and spell construction would be nice."

"That's…pretty specific," one older boy Harry didn't recognize but who wore the silver badge of a Prefect.

"What do you need that knowledge for?" Cedric asked.

"What's the best kind of prank?" Allie returned.

"This is Hufflepuff, not Ravenclaw," a girl sitting at the card game said.

Allie shrugged slightly.

"The best kind of prank," Tonks said slowly as her hair changed color to a jade green, "is one that doesn't hurt anyone, humiliates its intended targets, and doesn't splash over on anyone else."

Harry looked at her. He'd met the other seventh year on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team earlier in the evening when Thrace had introduced him to the team. Aside from colorful hair and dire threats muttered if anyone should invoke her first name, she had come across as standoffish and kind of rude. She was the last person on the team he'd have expected to show any amount of interest in a prank.

"Interested?"

"Who?" Tonks asked.

"Weasley twins."

"Excellent," Tonks said. She stood, took two steps, and tripped over her left shoe.

"Tonks!" Thrace said, pushing through the other students.

"I'm alrigh', Cap'n," Tonks groaned. "In fact, I think I'll just lay here for a mo'ent."

"Thrace?" Cedric asked.

"She's fine," the Quidditch Captain told the common room as Tonks slowly climbed back onto her feet. "Just making up for lost time, I think. I knew it was too good to last."

Cedric turned to Harry and Allie. "I'll come."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

He nodded. "Someone has to keep Tonks out of trouble and. Besides, I aim to make Prefect next year so I'm well motivated. Getting caught out after curfew would really spoil those plans."

"Can Ernie and I come?" Justin asked.

"Sure," Harry said.

"Alright," Allie said reluctantly. "I suppose we can use a few guards, and eight isn't a whole lot more noticeable than five."

Cedric helped up Tonks as Harry followed Allie down the passage out tumbled out of the painting that led to the Hufflepuff commons, followed by the other four Hufflepuffs.

"You said you were getting a little extra help, Allie, I didn't think you meant half the Hufflepuff Quidditch team," Padma said.

"Don't you mean a third?" her sister asked.

"Harry made the team," Padma informed her.

"_Really_?"

"Yes, really," Harry said shortly. "Don't tell anyone, please?"

"Harry," Parvati said, sounding hurt. "When have you ever known me to gossip?"

Harry looked at her. The first month of school was not yet over, and Parvati and her roommate Lavender Brown had firmly established their reputations as the biggest gossips in their year, and where making significant progress in their efforts to become the co-Gossip Queens of Hogwarts.

"I mean when it was something _important_," Parvati said.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Okay, for those of us who _haven't_ managed to already memorize all of the House quidditch teams' starting line-ups, could you do introductions, Harry?" Allie asked.

"Sure," Harry said. "Cedric, Tonks, these are Padma Patil of Ravenclaw, her sister Parvati of Gryffindor, and Allie, Elissa Blackthorn of Slytherin. Allie, Padma, Parvati, these are Tonks and Cedric Diggory, I think you all already know Ernie and Justin?"

"I thought you were only going to pick up one or two people?" Parvati said after nodding politely to the two older students.

"Yeah, well, I picked up a few extra people to keep watch," Allie said as Cedric and Tonks flicked their wands so that light poured from the tips. "Put those out."

"But—"

"Light carries further than we can see," Padma pointed out quietly.

"The point is not to be noticed, not alert people that we're sneaking about," Parvati added. "Put a hand on the wall to guide yourself. There aren't any pictures down here except that big still-life with the fruit."

"So what's the plan?" Tonks asked as Allie led them down the corridor towards the stairs that led up to the Entrance Hall.

"Fred and George Weasley's pranks are heavily reliant on potions," Allie said. "Not all of them, of course, but the ones they've been pulling that affect an entire house at meals? Those ones are almost entirely potion-based. There are only so many ways to mass administer potions."

"Food," Tonks said. "The house-elfs?"

"That was my thinking," Allie said.

"House-elfs?" Justin asked quietly.

"I'll explain later," Ernie whispered back.

"So why don't we get the house-elfs to slip something into their food?" Tonks asked.

"First, I'm not sure they can deliver a dosed meal that precisely. Remember, they're targeting an entire house," Allie said. "Second, I'm pretty sure the elfs would tell them if we tried something like that. I know that if I'd suborned them I'd make sure that they would inform me if someone else tried to counter-suborn them."

"What have we here?" a voice asked a moment before Peeves popped into existence in front of them.

"_Peeves_," Cedric hissed.

"Students of out bed," Peeves grinned at him.

Harry heard Allie mutter a word too quietly for him to make out, but probably wasn't one that the upper years would have approved of.

"Wait, I demand the Riddle," Padma said quickly from behind him.

"The Riddle?" Peeves repeated dubiously. "What is the Riddle?"

"It's in the Rules of the Prank," Padma said. "When one Prankster meets another in execution of a Prank, the first may demand that the second answer a Riddle. If the second fails to do so he is not allowed to call attention to the Prankster, while if he succeeds he can do as he pleases."

"Very well," Peeves said with a nasty grin. "Peevesie has a riddle—"

"Not so fast," Harry said, picking up from Padma. "We demanded the Riddle, we are, therefore, the Prankster. You must answer _our_ Riddle."

"Very well," Peeves said with a sour expression.

"When is a Prank not a Prank?" Padma said.

"And when is not a Prank a Prank," Parvati added with a grin.

"What is the best sort of Prank?" Tonks asked, giving the twins a sideways look as she repeated Allie's question.

"And finally," Allie cut in, "how, by Pranking nobody, can we Prank many?"

"You prank but you do not prank?" Peeves asked. "Bah, what talk is this of Pranking?"

"Tomorrow morning, breakfast, be there and find out," Allie said.

Peeves glowered at her, but then went zooming off.

Cedric, as he had the most experience with Hogwarts' many tricks and none of them were inclined to trust the bubblegum color-haired seventh year, led the way up. If he did run into someone he could wave them off in time for them to hopefully avoid getting in trouble while he tried to talk himself out of it. But the Entrance Hall seemed clear and they gathered at the top of the stairs.

"Great Hall?" he asked Allie as Harry peered around.

The Entrance Hall was very different at night with the high windows closed and all of the torches and lamps put out. It felt very…big. He could barely see across the hall to where the doors of the Great Hall were closed, and the suits of armor that stood sentry to either side of it were little more than blobs of darker shadows. The ceiling and upper floors were swallowed up by an impenetrable blackness.

As he watched, tiny flecks of light appeared a few floors above them light appeared and began bobbing and weaving as they slowly moved down the grand stairs.

Harry reached over and tugged on Cedric's sleeve and gestured upwards.

"Wand-lights," the older boy said in a hushed tone. "I don't know the prefect's patrol schedule. Tonks?"

"Do I look like a bloody prefect?" she hissed.

"It's okay, I have a distraction ready," Allie said.

Padma made a sound.

"Okay, _Padma_ has a distraction ready," Allie said as a ghost emerged from the doors of the Great Hall. "But I have someone scouting for us."

It floated across the Entrance Hall until all could recognize the Bloody Baron. Then the ghost made a short bow, then drifted off to the right and disappeared.

"Great Hall is clear," Allie said. "There aren't any wards or alarm spells on the doors, I checked last night. How about that distraction?"

"Any second now," Padma said. "I don't know any good timing spells so I had to use a potion that'd melt through the stopper of an inverted vial in a certain amount of time. When that happens it'll spill into a beaker of another potion and will cause a brief explosion and produce fumes with mildly hallucinogenic effects."

Cedric looked at her askance, then at Harry as though to ask 'just what have you gotten me involved in?'

Padma must have caught the look because she shrugged. "There was a recipe for a luminescent skin cream in July's _Teen Witch_ that involved blending two potions together. The explosion is a part of the process which is why the recipe calls for a broad-brimmed cauldron, the blast-wave has a lower pressure wave."

"I remember reading that one," Parvati hissed. "The most common error is not stewing the ergot long enough resulting in the fumes, and using a small cauldron—"

As she said this there was a flash of light from somewhere above them accompanied by a muffled _whampf_ that echoed from down a long hallway. The wand-lights, still well above them, stopped, and then hurriedly disappeared.

"Let's go," Harry hissed. Allie moved and he led the way across the hall, quickly opening the door of the Great Hall wide enough for the others to slip through, and turning to watch as they crossed the Entrance Hall. Cedric followed after with Tonks and managed to keep her from tripping over her feet.

"Okay, now what's this great prank?" Tonks demanded after Harry had quietly closed the door.

"Rules of the Prank?" Harry asked Padma.

"It did sound good, didn't it?" she asked, clearly pleased with herself.

"You mean they don't actually exist?" Justin asked as someone snickered.

"They do now," Parvati said. "One of them anyway. We'll just have to come up with a few more."

"Quick thinking, Padma, Harry," Allie said.

"Thank you," Padma replied.

"I don't believe…they got one over on Peeves," Cedric muttered to himself. "I didn't think that was possible. Heck, it isn't _natural_. Just what have you gotten me involved in, oh Seeker-of—"

"Seeker!" Padma blurted. "Is that what Professor Sprout has you doing?"

Harry hesitated, "I, uh…"

"What are you talking about?" her sister asked.

"His position," Padma said. "I thought they had put him on reserves or something, but that isn't the case, is it?"

"Padma," Parvati growled.

"I thought they had put him on the roles as a reserve of their quidditch team," Padma explained. "But Cedric is, was, the Hufflepuff Seeker. If Harry has that role now it means he's on the primary squad. You know how Malfoy's been telling everyone that Professor Sprout has him in detention for the rest of the year? Well I bet those detentions are cover for quidditch training, aren't they?" she asked rounding on Harry.

"I didn't say anything about detentions and Professor Sprout didn't say anything about detention," Harry said.

"Clever, Harry," Padma said. "Nice evasion, been taking lessons from Allie, have you?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "I note you haven't denied it."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Parvati demanded.

"Because it is supposed to be a secret," Harry hissed. "I just told Draco that I was being let off light because it was the first time I broke the rules and that I was being given extra work for the rest of the year."

"Don't knock it, Harry, you convinced him that you've been punished," Allie said. "Thanks to him the rest of the school thinks you've been given detention for the rest of the year."

"You _knew_?" Padma demanded.

"I figured it out," Allie said mildly.

"Then why didn't you tell us?" Parvati demanded. "I thought you were my friend!"

"Do you want me to tell Padma about the pink elephant?"

Parvati paled and shook her head vigorously as Padma asked "Pink elephant?"

"Then don't expect me to tell you other peoples' secrets if you don't want me to tell them yours."

"As fascinating as this is…the prank?" Tonks asked.

"Magic has a signature," Allie said. "Usually trying to identify it can be problematic unless you're in an area where a person has done a great deal of magic or the spell was really powerful."

"You cantrack a spell back to a wand…and you can use a known wand-signature to filter spells," Tonks said. "At least you usually can."

"Elphabates' Third," Cedric said, nodding slowly.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"One of the laws that explain what you can and cannot do," Cedric said. "You'll pick up Elphabiates next year."

"True enough," Allie said. "But there are other ways of identifying a magical signature than using a wand. And as Tonks pointed out, once you have a signature—and it doesn't even need to be that of a wand—you can filter for it."

"Which I suppose you have?" Padma asked. "Okay, then what are third-order switching spells?"

"First-order switching spells swap objects," Cedric said slowly, as though reciting class material he wasn't quite sure of. "At the most basic they have to trade like, or at least similar, objects, though more complex ones can exchange dissimilar objects. Second-order spells can be used to swap an object's location, rather than swapping the object itself with another."

"You can swap something's _location_?" Parvati asked skeptically.

"In effect," Tonks said. "First order spells switch objects at points 'A' and 'B'. Second order can move something from point 'A' to point 'B' without there being something to move from 'B' to 'A'."

"Right," Cedric said, nodding. "I'm not sure what third-order spells do." He looked at Tonks.

"Area-effect," Tonks said. "But how are you going to define limits to the area of effect? For that matter, just what are you planning on swapping whatever the Weasleys have dosed with and how are you going to limit the effects of the switching-spell to just the tampered items?"

"The corresponding food from the High Table," Allie said.

"You want to prank the _teachers_?" Padma hissed.

"No," Allie said. "The Weasleys are going to prank the teachers, they just won't know it."

"Devious, cunning, get pranks on the teachers without actually doing anything, using other peoples' work for your own ends…what a perfectly Slytherin prank," Parvati said.

"You're just upset you didn't think of it first," Padma retorted.

"That's great, but I have no idea of how to do a switching spell like that," Tonks interrupted. "I mean, you want to define a limit to the area of effects, there has to be some way of _timing_ the whole thing, and you didn't say how you were going to limit the spell to just tampered items. I'm assuming you plan to use some kind of filter?"

"Thaumaturgic filters keyed through runic point-anchors," Allie said. "That's why the need for a third-order charm. You'll see what I mean. Padma, Parvati, did you get the things I asked for?"

Padma produced a length of string, some colored chalk, and a few vials, while Parvati took a few flasks of some glowing potions out of her pockets, and then a pairs of labeled vials that didn't seem to have anything in them.

"Excellent."

Harry watched as Allie moved off to the center of the room, and having Padma hold down one end of the string, used it and the chalk to begin drawing out circles in the center of the Hall between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

"Justin, Ernie, keep a lookout," he said.

One magical circle comprised of two circles, one inside the other, was already done, and Allie was using a stick of colored chalk and one of the vials to mark down runes in-between the lines. There were marks for where two more sets of circles should be centered, so Harry took a piece of string and gestured for Parvati to hold down the center as he laid down two more sets of circles to either side of the one Allie was working on. With the three circles down he began copying the runes that Allie had inscribed into the first circle into one of the ones he'd just drawn, including a triangle that filled the center of the circle.

"Very nice," she told him, observing his work. "Of course, a thaumaturgic triangle is just about the simplest pattern there is, but we don't need anything more elaborate for what we're doing.

"Parvati, that rune has to be drawn in one go, you can't lift the chalk after each line. Each line has to flow from the proceeding line and into the succeeding line."

"What do you want me to do next?" Harry asked after he finished working on his circle.

Allie pulled out several pieces of parchment and unrolled them on the Hufflepuff table. Each had a separate triangle filled with a drawing.

"Runes?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "Technically they are sigils, but for our purposes you can call them runes. They have to be drawn exactly, so don't be afraid to rub it out and start over if you make a mistake."

"Cedric, Tonks, each of the house tables needs seven of each of these designs spaced equidistantly down their length."

"I'm not sure I see what you're doing," Cedric spoke up. "The runes clearly link the two, so I'm assuming that the ones on the floor are some way of identifying a magical signature."

"Parvati lifted some hairs from each of the twins," Allie explained. "I can use that as a source to identify their magical signatures for the filters."

Tonks and Cedric traded looks.

"Using body parts is border-line Dark Magic," Tonks said.

Allie frowned at her. "Body parts like hair or nail clippings can be used for some pretty bad stuff, but it can be used for some very helpful stuff too. Calling it Dark Magic because someone can abuse it is a lot like calling the levitation charm Dark Magic because someone can use it to levitate another person off the Astronomy Tower."

"The levitation charm isn't rated for human use," Padma interjected. Everyone turned to look at her. She shifted uncomfortably, "which isn't really the point."

"What I'm doing is a pretty basic thaumaturgic identification spell. The sigils on the tables will anchor it. The sigils will also act as point-anchors for the Switching spells. By spreading out the number of sigils it helps stabilize the identification spell while spreading out the load from the switch spells so that they don't overpower the thing. The tricky part for you, Tonks, is that we want the Switching spell to flow equally between all of the sigils, but we don't want the sigils themselves switched."

Cedric's eyes widened and he pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

Tonks' was more enthusiastic. "That is some seriously neat magic."

"I thought so," Allie said.

Harry waved Justin and Ernie over and explained the rune and how to draw it on the tables and where, and offered to let them work on it while he stood guard since he had done the circles on the floor.

He had only been watching for a few minutes when he saw movement on one of the stairs. "Someone's coming," he hissed. He heard the scratching of the chalk cease, and a moment later someone pressed against his back and he looked up to find Cedric leaning over him to peer outside.

The figure was shadowy, not using a wand-light to find its way, and it moved without pausing to the front doors and opened one wide.

"That's Professor Quirrell," Harry said softly as moonlight revealed a turbaned figure. His robes felt stifling as the suddenly oppressive tension grew thick enough cut.

Quirrell froze and looked around.

Harry and Cedric both pulled back from the door, as if simply being near it would be enough to alert the DADA Professor to their presence. But at last the front door closed with a soft _thud_, and when Harry looked again the hall was empty. "He's gone," he reported.

Cedric checked for himself before nodding in agreement. "We're clear."

The scratching of chalk resumed.

At length Justin and Ernie returned to take up watching again while Harry returned to doing runes down the length of the Gryffindor table as Allie checked on the others' work.

"Okay," he said, once he'd finished his last rune and saw the others had all finished with theirs. "Twenty-one runes per table, spread down the length of each of four tables, plus…only three on the Head Table?" The three on the Head Table were much more elaborate than the simple runes on the house tables, almost miniature copies of the circles on the floor.

Allie nodded in agreement.

"What next?" he asked.

"Parvati managed to procure for us samples of some of the potions they use," she said, gesturing to the flasks that were now sitting inside the circles. "She also got a sample of their hair, which we can use to tie their personal magical signatures to each." Allie held up the vials, and on close inspection Harry could see a number of ginger-colored hairs inside of them. "And now everybody just takes a step back and lets me work."

Harry gestured the others back, though all watched as she sat down cross-legged by the three circles. Even Ernie and Justin had moved from the doors to watch.

For a while she just chanted softly. The flasks began to glow. More chanting, this time accompanied by motions of a knife Allie had gotten from somewhere. She carefully added a pair of hairs from each vial into each of the circles. For a moment Harry thought he saw sparks crackle along the chalked lines of the circles, but the next he wasn't sure.

Slowly Allie stopped chanting, and as she did so the circles stopped glowing.

Allie stood carefully. "I need someone to picture all of the runes on the house tables, but not the Head Table, turning the color that the circles glowed, and then poke into the central circle with their wand."

"Makes sense," Cedric said from somewhere behind him.

Harry closed his eyes, visualized the color moving into the runes the same way he had first lit the candle, and then poked the blob of magic color. It felt thick, like he was trying to poke jell-o or the balloon from one of Dudley's birthdays that he had discovered forgotten behind the couch one time, and he'd been able to play with it for a full five minutes before his Aunt Petunia had shrieked at him and snatched it away. But after several seconds his wand slowly slid in.

"Wow," someone said, and he opened his eyes. Ribbons of light were streaking from all three of the glowing circles to each of the runes like continuous, silent, perfectly-straight bolts of colored lightening.

"Interesting affect," Tonks said. "I didn't think it was supposed to be so colorful."

"It wasn't," Allie said clinically as the lightshow played out around them. "A side-effect of using a magical device instead of a ritual tool, I think."

Harry turned, trying to watch everything at once and saw Ernie and Justin standing in the middle of the room. "Justin, the door," he said quickly.

Justin tore himself from the lightshow long enough to check to see if anyone had seen the light, but no one hand and he waved that they were still okay.

"Charms now?" Tonks asked when the light died.

"Now the charms," Allie agreed. She passed over a scroll. "Each of the runes on the house tables needs to be linked with one on the High Table. I made a map so you can see which one needs to be linked where. Then I have one more rune I need to put in, the control rune."

"What if you can't get to a particular spot at the Slytherin table?" Cedric asked. "I mean…apprenticeship or not, you're still a first year."

"That's why I'm putting it at Hufflepuff," she said. "Harry and his friends have been sitting in pretty much the same spot. I'll put it there."

"Okay," Cedric said, tagging after Tonks who was casting switching spells.

"Harry, this is a one-shot deal. There is a tiny flaw in the runes that will cause them to…burn out, for want of a better term, once they've been used. If it isn't triggered the magic will naturally degrade," Allie told him. "I'd be surprised if it lasted more than a couple of weeks considering how magically powerful this place is. However, you can't activate it if the Weasley's haven't put any of their doctored stuff out. Doing that would be…bad."

"Understood," Harry said. "Er, how do I turn it on and off?"

"Um," she bit her lip and considered the tables. "Do you think a wand tap would be too much?"

Harry shook his head. "That sounds good."

She nodded and dived under the Hufflepuff table near where he usually sat.

"Can I start cleaning up the circles?" he asked.

"You need to open them first, but yes."

Harry went to the first circle and reached out with a hand, slowly approaching until the palm of his hand brushed against the intangible _something_ that he had just pushed his wand through. He took a deep breath and steadied his legs as his hand went numb and all the hairs on his neck stood up in the wash of power from the circle. Closing his eyes he pictured the circle and the energy it contained. Allie had shown him how to do this one time when she had visited the Patils in August, but it was the first time he was going to try to break one on his own without her closely monitoring him. Picturing the energy remaining contained he quickly brushed his foot over the outer chalk line, smearing it and breaking the magic that contained the spell inside the circle.

Instantly the magic began to pour out of it in a flood and Harry pushed against it, trying to imagine himself as a dam and slowing the rush of released energy. His body went numb a moment before the magic began to course through him. It reminded him of a cross between his first hot shower, and what he imagined grabbing a live electrical wire would feel like.

The well of power tapered off until it was little more than a trickle, and then it wasn't even that. Despite his eyes being closed he could see the circle he had just drained. The other two were still bright, live with magical energy, but the one in front of him was little more than chalk lines on the floor. He reached out to the other two without moving, grasped the power they contained, and pushed it 'down'. He didn't have to physically break the circles like he had with the first, just reach out with the power that was now—at least for the moment—indescribably his and _willed_ them to release their power into Hogwarts.

Harry opened his eyes to see the tables, walls, everything in the Great Hall, literally _crawling_ with a light so intense he brought up a hand to protect his eyes.

"What was _that_?" he heard Tonks hiss.

"Harry was showing off," Padma said, her voice soft in wonder.

"Not intentionally," Harry protested. "I had to drain off the power still inside the circles in order to break them."

"And we all felt it," Justin said.

"Everyone in the entire _castle_ probably felt that," Parvati retorted.

"Harry," Allie said, crossing to him in three brisk steps. "Are you all right?"

"I'm wonderful," Harry said, staring intently at his hand. He could _see_ the magic flowing under and above his skin through tiny, insubstantial, vessels.

"You don't look all right," Cedric said.

Harry turned and started to say 'I'm fine', but he stopped, the words unspoken. Before him stood two figures in armor.

Cedric—unmistakably Cedric though he bore little resemblance to the 3rd year—was older and bigger than the version he knew, and was wearing heavy plate armor. He had a shield that was split evenly yellow and black, and had a matching tunic-like garment over the armor that split into a checkered pattern below a broad leather belt that was circled twice about him. A yellow cape was slung about his shoulders and fell to trail behind him on the ground. He had a helmet, though its visor was up, and while he wore a sword belted at his side in his hand that wasn't occupied with a shield he held a heavy metal club with a flanged head.

Tonks was also older and a little taller, with long black hair that flowed freely behind her in some unseen wind, and her eyes hidden behind a white bandage. She wore a suit of plate armor, but where Cedric's was plain and practical, hers was polished to a silvery-bright shine had a fantastic quality to it, like it was the _idea_ of armor more than it was armor itself. She brandished a sword before her that shone like a rainbow twisted into steel in her right hand, while in her left she bore a set of scales. Her face managed to look both joyous and implacable, and yet incredibly serene, and he had a feeling that despite the blindfold she could see everything.

"Harry?" Allie repeated.

At his name he turned to look at her, and instantly wished she hadn't. Allie wore robes that were threadbare and old, and she leaned heavily on a staff that was carved with half-finished runes. She didn't look much older, but the familiar smirk was missing from lips that were thin and pinched. Her black hair hung in limps locks that partially shielded remote and tired-looking eyes from the pale green glow coming from the heavy metal lantern she carried.

Behind her, hovering like a malignant specter, was another image of her. She had none of the tiredness of the first image but her eyes danced with unholy glee and her smirk was cold and cruel in a way that he couldn't recall the _real_ Allie's ever being. Her robes were of some rich fabric and heavily decorated, and the staff she bore was fully carved with elaborate runes.

Most disturbing, however, was that fatigue aside the first image still looked basically health while the specter that overshadowed her was anything but. Her skin was stretched tightly over her bones, webbed with blue veins on her hands and sallow where purple, green and yellowing bruises hadn't marred her face. Burst blood vessels made her eyes—filmy with cataracts—appear red.

The tired woman lifted the lantern a little higher, turning to brandish it at the specter which retreated with a pained scream. The odd, pale green light extended a little further, and flickering at the edges of it Harry could see a vast horde of human figures that recoiled in concert with the specter.

He jerked away and what he saw next made him want to weep. Standing in the doors of the Great Hall was the girl he remembered from the train, Hermione Granger, or an older version of her, wearing glowing white robes of some archaic style—Greek, or perhaps Roman? He wasn't sure—and her bushy hair was held back by an ancient-looking helmet. Her eyes were filled with crackling white lightning as she read from a massive tome in her left hand. An owl, large and pure white in a way that even Hedwig wasn't, rode her left shoulder, and she held a spear with a shaft of silver-blue metal that was taller than him and had a blade formed of perfectly white light that was longer than his forearm.

She lowered the spear, pointing with it, and Harry turned to see a badger, well, what he supposed a badger would look like if it stood on two legs and had arms and hands like humans did. It was short and stout, and its black fur was grizzled around its jaws.

Something wrapped itself around his forehead and jerked his head back, breaking the…vision? He wasn't certain. A band tightened around his head, pulling hairs that were trapped in it, and his head was jerked again as a knot was tightened.

"Are you with us now, Harry?" Allie's voice asked sharply.

Harry looked around the hall. Thousands, _millions_, of tiny, tightly-spaced glowing runes still flowed up the walls and across the tables and floor, only to ripple where the others stood. He chanced a quick half-glance towards where he thought Tonks stood, not wanting to look at Allie again. Tonks—normal, bubblegum-haired Tonks—looked at him worriedly.

"You don't need to go to the hospital wing, do you?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Harry said, "I think." He reached up to touch the—bandage?—tied around his forehead but Allie slapped his hand away.

"What the hell happened?" Cedric demanded.

"Harry forgot to dispel the magic inside the circle before breaking it," Allie said. "Then he tried to use his own power to slow down the rush of energy instead of getting out of its way, so he got his third eye blasted open."

"You knew this would happen," Harry said.

"Only if you didn't de-power the circle first," Allie said. She turned back to him, "And you won't ever make that mistake again, will you?"

"No," Harry said with a shudder, the disturbing double-image of his friend was still as sharp as if he were still watching it.

"And the light show?" Cedric said.

"Harry fed the power of the other two circles directly into the school, into the wards I mean, rather than releasing it into…ambient energy. Look, Diggory, it doesn't matter right now. What matters it that probably everyone in the school felt that."

"Which means we have to leave," the boy said quickly. "Can those circles be safely vanished?"

Allie nodded. "Harry did the hard work; they're not more than chalk lines now."

"_Scourgify_," Cedric said, waving his wand at the floor between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables just as the door of the Great Hall opened.

Harry whirled towards the doors, his wand in his hand though he couldn't recall drawing it, but the person who'd entered the room wasn't the Professor he had thought. It wasn't even a prefect. It was the figure from the vision minus the robes, armor, owl, spear, and massive tome.

"_Granger_?" Parvati hissed. "What are you—you _followed me_?"

"Of course I did," Hermione said. "I was trying to stop you before you did something foolish." She looked at the glowing hall, then at the doors. "We're going to be in so much trouble," she moaned softly.

"We're not far from our common room," Tonks said.

"The burrows?" Harry asked aloud, more to himself than his housemate. He nodded sharply, "right, we'll do that. Cedric, take Tonks across first." He hadn't asked, didn't really know the older girl, but he just _knew_ that the fall in the sett hadn't been a one-off.

"Not only sneaking around, but you injured someone too?" Hermione asked. "The hospital wing—"

"Granger," Allie said, "unless you want to explain to your housemates how you not only lost an incredible number of points for Gryffindor, but why you were found tied up in the Headmaster's chair in the Great Hall with rabbit ears, I suggest you be quiet."

"The Professors would believe me," she said sharply.

"That what, a cabal of students from all four houses secretly tricked you into roaming the halls after hours so that they could tie you to a chair in the Great Hall? Because really, that's what this whole thing was about."

"If you two are done?" Cedric asked, brushing past them to crack open the door. "Looks clear," he reported.

Tonks stumbled into one of the suits of armor flanking the doors of the Great Hall, but Cedric was able to catch her and Harry caught the armor before it clattered to the floor. He was only just barely able to hold it up, but then Justin, Ernie, and Allie were there and they quickly got it standing again.

Harry clapped Justin on the back, the muggleborn grinned back at him and then he and Ernie took off across the Entrance Hall. They made it across as well, for some reason the Entrance Hall seemed much brighter than he remembered it being when he'd been standing guard. He could see Cedric wave for him to send the next pair, and Allie almost sent Padma and Parvati across before he stopped them.

She turned to look at him and he pointed to the floor of the Hall to one side. A swatch of stone floor was clearly lighter than the rest.

"Someone is coming up the cross corridor at the end of the hall," Hermione announced from behind him, but at least she had kept her voice low. "We're all going to be caught."

"No," Harry said, he pointed towards a side staircase that he couldn't remember seeing during the day. It was on the same side as the corridor emerged from, and more importantly they didn't have to go across the hall to reach it.

"Move, Harry," Allie hissed. "We'll be right behind you."

Harry scrambled as quietly as he could to the staircase. It was old and made of wood, but he had had enough practice with the Dursleys' staircase. By only stepping on the sides of the stairs, rather than the middle, he was able to keep it from squeaking. The staircase led to a broad hall lined with statues and a heavy rug that padded the middle of it so his feet left no sounds. Despite there being no torches or windows he could see quiet clearly. In fact, everything around him seemed to give off a soft light.

"Slow down," he heard Parvati hiss. He turned to find Padma and Parvati flanking Hermione, Allie was behind them, a hand on a shoulder of each twin as she guided them down the hall. "How can you even see where you're going?" she demanded.

"I just can," he said. "Everything is glowing."

"Mage-sight?" Padma asked. "How'd you develop mage-sight?"

"Backwash from releasing the circles," Allie suggested. "And it's probably only a sensory boost, making his eyes more efficient. True mage-sight is linked to the third-eye and I've already shut _that_ down." She pulled out a pocket watch with slightly glowing hands. "We were too efficient."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione demanded.

"It means we've got a while yet before my next diversion goes off," Allie said. "What?" she asked, "Did you honestly think Padma was the only one who set one up?"

"Never mind," Padma hissed. "Does anyone recognize where we are?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Harry asked. "We can only go forward."

"Fair enough, oh mage-sighted one," Parvati said, grinning at him. "You go first."

Harry led them down the corridor, feeling rather foolish with an upraised wand that he didn't know how to light and didn't need too as he could see quite well without it. There was an abrupt alcove to the right that turned out to be a landing for a staircase.

"I know this stair," Hermione said. "It's a corridor and another staircase away from Gryffindor Tower."

But the stair did not lead to a corridor. It led to a large room filled with dusty display cases. The walls were lined with shields and plaques, while banners and tapestries hung from the ceilings. Heavily engraved cups and plates twinkled from their stands, and statues lurked between the display cases and in the corners of the room. There was a heavy silver chalice on a velvet pillow in its own display case near the center. Near it, in another case, was a very plain-looking iron cauldron. A trio of long cases held gold and silver-colored swords, while a collection of crowns, scepters, and objects Harry couldn't begin to identify they were so gem-encrusted, glittered nearby.

"The Trophy Room," Parvati said flatly. "We're _miles_ from where any of us need to be."

Hermione scowled at her, "But the map said quite clearly that—"

"Maps don't work in Hogwarts," Padma hissed at the Gryffindor. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Hogwarts moves around too much for maps to work."

There was a noise in the next room that made them jump.

"Sniff around," a cold, dry voice hissed in the darkness. "Sniff, sniff around, my sweet, those terrible students may be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the others to follow him as quickly as possible. They scurried across the room towards the door furthest from the one Filch was coming from. Padma's robes had barely whipped around the door when they heard Filch's voice again.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter. "Only one place those Entrance Hall stairs lead at this time of night. Check the corners, my sweet, that's where they'll be hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer.

"Uh oh," Parvati said.

"Uh oh?" Hermione demanded in a furious whisper. "What does that mean?"

"When Allie asked Padma to set up a distraction I, uh, couldn't resist putting in one of my own," Parvati admitted.

"So?" Harry asked.

"I, um, used one of Neville's potions and sort of hid it in a suit of armor in this gallery. What?" she asked as the four turned and gave her furious looks, "it wasn't like I knew we were going to be making a secret getaway down—"

A suit of armor shrieked as its legs dissolved into a puddle of purple goo. The rest of the armor toppled to the ground. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the castle that had managed to sleep through the rush of magical energy.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether or not Filch was following—they swung around a doorpost and galloped down one corridor, then another, with Harry in the lead and no idea where they were or where they were going.

They hit a stairway going down, and Harry, in a spurt of half-crazed glee, hopped up on the polished banister and rode it down faster than he could have run the stairs. So fast, in fact, that he couldn't get his legs under him in time and he stumbled towards a wall. He managed to get his arm up, but instead of colliding with the stone wall he barreled through a tapestry into a secret passage. The extra room was enough for him to get his feet back under him, and the four girls followed hot on his heels until they emerged from the secret passage near the Charms classroom which was nearly on the opposite side of the school from the Trophy Room.

"I think we've lost them," Harry panted, leaning against a cold stone wall and wiping his forehead. Allie nodded from where she was leaning against the wall opposite him and breathing heavily.

"I—told—you," Hermione gasped, clutching at a stitch in her side. "I—told—you."

"We have to get back to our dorms," Padma said quietly though she too was breathing heavily, "as quickly as possible."

"I can't believe we destroyed a suit of armor," Hermione moaned. "We're going to be in so much trouble. Out after hours, running in the corridors, destroying school property…"

"Hey," Parvati said suddenly. "I destroyed a suit of armor. Hmm."

"What?" Padma asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking. My horoscope told me a knight would fall for me. I just didn't think it meant it literally."

A doorknob rattled and Harry hissed "_Quiet_." A moment later something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves again. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves," Harry hissed, "Please—you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at night, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Wait," Padma said desperately, "I demand a Riddle."

"Can't," Allie said softly. "We're in the egress phase."

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives down the corridor and down a flight of stairs, not sure of where they were. They found themselves in another corridor and raced down it as well, right to the end where they slammed into a door—and it was locked.

"End of the line," Parvati said in a ghastly whisper. "We're trapped."

They could hear footsteps. Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.

"Heck with that, someone use the unlocking charm," Allie hissed.

"Why don't you come up here and use it?" Parvati hissed at Allie who was at the back of the pack.

"Because if I do I'll either blast the door off its hinges, or start a fire that no one can put out," Allie retorted.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She snatched Harry's wand from him and tapped the lock, whispering as she did so, "_Alohomora!_"

The lock clicked and the door swung open with nary a squeak. They piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go_?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his most annoying sing-song voice.

"All right—_please_."

"NOTHING! Ha ha! Haaaaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" and they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay."

"Maybe not, Harry," Padma said softly. "_look_."

Harry wanted to sink against the stone floor. His robes were warm and damp with sweat, his breathing was ragged, first from the terrifying run through the school and then the tense minutes of not daring to breathe as they waited for Filch to leave. turned around. For a moment he was quite sure that he had walked into a nightmare—this was far too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't yet dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob—between Filch and death, he'd take Filch. But the door had relocked itself and the knob was still in Harry's hand. It was Padma who pushed him aside this time and tried the unlocking spell, but the spell bounced off.

"Warded door," Allie muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Parvati demanded.

"That whoever set this up didn't want anyone who got in the way we did, to be able to get out the same way," Allie said, her voice calm as though not at all concerned about her impending demise. "Or it could be that the door has some kind of enchantment that learns so that once a spell is used it becomes warded against that spell. Or it could be a one-way portal. A door from the outside but a wall from in here. That's the way I would have set it up if I were doing the warding, have a seperate exit."

"Can you get us out?" Harry asked.

The dog made up its mind about which of them it was going to kill first and started to lunge for Hermione, but a thin wailing sounded echoed through the halls of Hogwarts. It slowly grew louder, accompanied by a droning noise.

The giant dug huffed angrily and the left head yawned, its gaping jaws wide enough that Harry could have stood upright in them. The dog huffed again as it lay down, and went back to sleep.

"Bagpipes?" Hermione asked.

"Asked a ghost I met," Allie said as the piper, apparently satisfied with that his instrument, took up 'Scotland, the Brave'. She bent over the lock. "I can probably disrupt the warding so that one of you can cast the unlocking charm and get us out, but that will let whoever set this up _know_ that someone was here. On the other hand…" she reached into a pocket and came up with a couple pieces of twisted metal. She fed them into the lock, and shortly later there was a heavy _thunk_ and the door swung open.

They spilled through it onto the floor and Harry swung the door shut again. Filch must have gone to search for them elsewhere because he was gone. Aside from the bagpipes echoing through the corridors there were no signs that anyone else was even still up.

"Lockpicks?" Harry asked.

"Sometimes the non-magical solution is still the best solution," Allie said satisfactorily as she pocketed the pieces of bent metal.

"Well," Padma said, falling to the floor and trying not to giggle. ef thy felt was a heady, almost palpable, thing. "That was interesting."

"Yeah, how are we going to cheat Death next week?" her sister asked, she wasn't trying not to giggle.

"Not that," Padma said. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy looking at its teeth."

"No, _not_ the floor," Hermione said crossly. Unlike the other students she had picked herself up and brushed off her robes as soon as the door was shut. "It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She glared at them. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to Gryffindor Tower and go to bed before any of you come up with another brilliant plan to get us all killed—or worse, expelled."

With that, Hermione turned and stalked down the corridor.

"Well," Harry said sardonically as he watched the twins, "I suppose it's nice to know that somebody has their priorities in order."

The effect was every bit he could have hoped for.

The twins cracked up and Allie shook so hard keeping her laughter silent that she had to brace herself against the wall and made choking sounds.

"She's right about one thing," Padma said after the moment passed. "I'm going to bed. I don't want to be late for breakfast."

"You want us to take you there?" Parvati asked.

Her sister shook her head. "Ravenclaw Tower isn't that far."

Harry shook hands with Parvati and then Allie who both left shortly thereafter with an injunction that he was not to remove the bandage she had tied around his head until after the sun had risen and then to burn it. But Hermione had given Harry yet another thing to think about as he headed by himself towards the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, not even noticing that the mage-sight—which had so helpfully allowed him to see in Hogwarts dark corridors—was gone. The dog was guarding, something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something that you wanted to hide—except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where whatever it was that Hagrid had been sent to collect from Gringotts—and that someone had later tried to steal from the same place—had ended up.


	9. Chapter 9: Broomsticks sans Bedknobs

**Chapter Nine: Broomsticks (sans Bedknobs)**

_1) Never astride the broom.  
2)Technically, a Witch is always a lady, except when circumstances dictate otherwise.  
3)Take an easy, graceful sideways position.  
4)Now, to start up the broom, your basic formula: lakipo nikrif scrumpet leetch.  
-_Instructions accompanying broom, from the Emelius Browne Correspondence College of Witchcraft.  
_-Bedknobs and Broomsticks-_

_\|/\|/\|/  
_

Cedric and Tonks had been waiting, though Ernie and Justin had both gone to bed, when Harry finally returned to the Sett in the wee hours of the morning. He had given them a brief accounting of their run through the corridors and galleries of Hogwarts, though he left out finding what was awaiting those who entered the Forbidden third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. They had grinned when he told them about Parvati's horoscope, and Tonks had fallen out of her chair when he told them Hermione's reaction to their night-time activities.

Harry was so tired after his late-night adventure that he didn't hear his alarm go off the next morning, and thus found himself one of the last Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall which was, thankfully, no longer glowing. The rest of his House was as eager as he was to see what their prank had wrought. Harry slid into the open space between Justin and Susan and felt around the underside of the table for the magical rune Allie had sketched there.

"Well?" Ernie hissed from across the table.

Harry didn't feel anything from the rune, though he was sure he was sitting in the right spot.

He ducked under the table quickly just to check.

It was indeed the right spot.

He started to prod the rune with the tip of his wand before he remembered Allie's warning about how it would only work once. After a moment of thought he conjured some yellow sparks that blasted into the underside of the table. The rune glowed briefly, then the glow faded leaving the rune as it had been before.

"Looks like they didn't try to prank anyone today," he said, sticking his head back above the table.

Justin glanced around the hall. "You're clear," he told Harry.

Harry wiggled back up into his seat as the other first years kept watch.

"Well that's disappointing," he said.

"You do remember that the thing we did last night will only work if they do something to the food, right?" Ernie asked his friend.

The look on Justin's face said quite clearly that no, he hadn't thought of that "Do you think we can taunt them into doing something?"

Harry shrugged and started to reply, but someone said "Look!"

Suddenly everyone in the Great Hall was watching the owls arrive with the morning mail, and in particular six very large screech owls that were carrying a long, thin package. They flew over the Head Table, banked into a right turn, and swept low as they flew down the Hufflepuff table. The owls released their load in front of a cluster of third-years, and the package skidded down the table, disrupting platters of bacon and pancakes, upsetting pitchers of pumpkin juice and milk, and nearly tipping jugs of syrup, before finally stopping in front of Harry.

He started to reach for it when a screech from overhead made him pull back and look up just in time to see another owl, near the ceiling of the Great Hall wing-over. It plummeted towards the table, punching through the flock of owls that were flying about the hall at a lesser altitude in a fair impersonation of a dive-bomber going through a cloud.

It screeched again, the vocalization distorted as it both approached and gained in speed. At the last possible moment it frantically pulled out of its dive, a letter in a parchment envelope burying itself corner-down in Harry's stack of pancakes. For a moment the owl looked like it was going to crash as it zoomed down the table, often below eye-level of the students sitting at it, before it desperately began to flap its wings and gain altitude.

"Let me guess," Justin said dryly. "That one's called Stuka."

"How can you tell? I didn't see a name tag," Ernie said.

Justin shook his head. "The stuka was a kind of…" he paused, then shook his head again. "Never mind, Ernie, it's a muggle thing."

Hedwig, who had come down from the owlery to nibble at Harry's bacon, made a disgusted sound.

"Of course they were showing off," Harry said. "Not every owl can be as good-looking at you."

His owl's head snapped around.

"You were a bit obvious," Harry told his owl. "Bacon?"

"Harry…" Susan said slowly as the owl took the offered strip of bacon, "are you, I mean… Are you actually having a conversation with your owl?"

"Of course not," Harry said. "Owls don't talk, everyone knows that. Hedwig was just being really obvious about what she was thinking." The owl in question glared at him and he said, "What? You were."

Hedwig gave him another glare, then launched herself into the air and flapped away.

"Anyway," he said, "no, I can't talk to owls. I can talk to snakes, though."

The table around him hushed as though hit with a silencing spell and Harry belatedly remembered Allie's warning about letting people know that particular fact.

"What?" Justin asked, not the only muggle-born that looked confused at the preternatural silence that had eclipsed their table. "What is it?"

After a moment Ernie made a disgusted sound and shook his head. "That joke was in really poor taste, Harry."

"Joke?" Justin asked.

"I'll explain later," Ernie promised his friend as conversation at the table began to pick up again.

"You know," Susan said. "I almost believed you there for a moment. Ernie was right. It really was in poor taste."

"I—" Harry began, but he stopped and shrugged. He hadn't meant it as a joke, hadn't even really been thinking about it when he'd said it. And warned or not, it didn't stop him from feeling slightly hurt by his friends' reactions.

He pulled the letter out of the pancakes. Written on one side in big block letters was:

READ ME FIRST.

Harry turned it open and found the envelope was sealed with a wax seal of a yellow badger on a black background. He slit it open with a butter knife and pulled out the parchment inside.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE  
_It contains your new Cleansweep 6, but I don't  
want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick  
or they'll all want one. Samothrace Capper will  
meet you tonight on the Quidditch Pitch at  
seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor P. Sprout  
Head of Hufflepuff &etc._

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he carefully refolded the letter and passed it to Ernie.

"A Cleansweep 6," Ernie said, reading the letter. "That's a right good broom, that is." He started to say something more, but hesitated.

Justin wasn't so discreet. "Want to go to the Sett and open it up?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

With what seemed like two-thirds of Hufflepuff, or at least his year, following him, Harry got up and made his way across the hall. He was stopped short of the doors to the Entrance Hall, however, by Ron.

"I saw the owls," Ron said.

"The entire Great Hall saw the owls," Ernie huffed.

"That's a broomstick, isn't it?"

"If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll explain," Harry said.

"Gryffindor's Honor," Susan said seriously.

Ron's eyes flicked to the girl, and then he slowly nodded. "All right, Gryffindor's Honor."

"Good, c'mon," Harry said as he grabbed Ron's arm and propelled him through the doors of the Great Hall, "I don't want to do this here."

They managed to get halfway across the Entrance Hall before they were stopped again, this time by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "A year of detentions not enough, Potter? You'll be in for it this time for sure. First years aren't allowed broomsticks."

"A gross misunderstanding," another voice cut in before Ron could jump to Harry's defense.

"Padma?" Harry asked.

"Hullo, Harry," Padma said. She turned to Malfoy, her expression cooling. "You'll find, Malfoy, if you bothered to check the rules, that first years aren't allowed _flying_ brooms."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy demanded.

"What am _I_ talking about?" she asked. "_You're_ the one saying that Harry's been assigned detention for the rest of the year by Professor Sprout. You don't honestly think she's has _that_ many plants that need to be repotted, do you? You are aware that detentions usually require manual labor without the use of magic, are you not? Brooms charmed to resist being enspelled are not exactly commonplace items inside of a magical castle. If I were Harry I'd have avoided opening it in the Great Hall in front the entire school too."

Malfoy started to reply, but Professor Flitwick appeared at his elbow, "not arguing, I hope, boys? Ladies?"

"No," Malfoy said. "No, not at all, Professor." He gave Harry a look of unholy glee before whirling around and striding away.

"Yes, well, perhaps the rest of you should be off to your classes?" Professor Flitwick suggested.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said.

Flitwick nodded once and started to walk away.

Harry allowed himself a sigh of relief that he quickly strangled as Flitwick turned back around.

"And Mr. Potter?"

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Congratulations." This time when he turned he walked away whistling a jaunty tune.

"Morgana," Padma muttered darkly. "Next time make sure Allie's around to do that kind of double-thinking."

"You know?" Harry asked.

"I was there the other day, Harry, remember?" Padma asked crossly. "It wasn't exactly hard to figure out when you got off. Of course none of the rest of my year-mates in Ravenclaw have figured it out yet, but I'm firmly of the opinion that is says more about them than it does me. The upper years, of course, don't believe us at all. Say we're exaggerating the catch." She made a sound of disgust.

"What do you know?" Ron asked her, then, before she could answer, he turned to Harry. "You don't really have detentions for a year, do you, Harry?"

"Of a sort," Harry admitted. He led them down into the corridor that led to the Hufflepuff common room.

"We'll wait here and make sure no one overhears," Ernie said.

Harry dragged Ron and Padma down the hall a little further. "Yesterday in flying lessons Smith picked up Neville's remembrall," he told Ron, fishing the device out of a pocket and handing it over.

"We were wondering where it had gone," Ron said. "It fell out of Neville's pocket during his accident and Malfoy picked it up. We, uh…"

"Got in a fight," Padma said. "My sister told me."

"Yeah," Ron said, the tips of his ears turning pink. "We tried to look for it later but couldn't find it."

"Smith threatened to leave it someplace high up, and when I went up after him he tried to throw and smash it against the castle. I, uh, caught it."

"After a truly spectacular fifty-foot dive and plucked it out of the air about a foot above the flagstones," Padma told Ron.

Harry shrugged. "Anyway, the guy Hufflepuff has as seeker would really prefer to be playing chaser, but since they don't have anyone else to play seeker they've been stuck."

"Until now," Padma said.

"Until now," Harry amended.

"No way, _seeker_?" Ron asked. "Blimey, you must be the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch player in—"

"About a century," Padma and Harry finished together.

"So that really is a—" Ron nodded at the package.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Cleansweep 6."

"That's a good broom," Ron said.

"I have to get to class," Padma announced.

Harry nodded. "Us too. I'll see you later?" he asked Padma.

"Of course."

"I, uh, guess I'll see you later too," Ron said before turning and shuffling down the hall after the Ravenclaw.

Harry hurried to his dorm room and ripped the paper from the broom and spilled it out onto his bedspread. It lay there; all glistening varnished wood shaft and thick ruler-straight tail made of long twigs. On the shaft, near the very end, inlayed with gold, was written _CS-6S_.

He stared at it a moment longer, then bolted for class.

\|/\|/\|/

They day passed in a disjointed blur that left Harry thankful for History of Magic and Quirrel's Defense Against the Dark Arts because he knew that he could not have gotten through Potions without making some dreadful mistake that would have resulted in painful, and probably humiliating, injuries that may very well have been uncorrectable. By the time lunch rolled around Ernie and Justin had given up trying to talk with him, and he completely missed the utterly malicious smile of welcome Argus Filch gave him after the meal.

At dinner he allowed himself a few bites for show, then disappeared into the Hufflepuff Sett just long enough to retrieve his broom before heading for the pitch.

There were the expected team locker rooms (each team had their own, clearly identified with the House colors and mascot) and a large ring of tall stands. Inside the stands, the pitch itself was a long oval with ends that narrowed sharply, at each of which stood three spindly poles topped with hoops that reminded him of the plastic things muggle children used to blow bubbles.

Not sure where he was supposed to go he went to the Hufflepuff locker rooms first. He didn't know what to expect, but he certainly wasn't expecting to find a modern muggle locker room with metal lockers fitted with combination locks and perfectly laid tiles and fluorescent lighting. What he found was a room lined with large, old-fashioned, wooden lockers. The wood had been sanded smooth and stained, but they were so old that the wood had turned a rich dark brown and was satin soft. Each locker had a name, a position, and a number stenciled on it.

The floor was tiled, but not with a boring pattern of one or two colors. Instead an incredible mosaic was set into the floor like something out of an ancient roman bathhouse like he'd seen on a video in primary school, but the pattern was of a Quidditch game. The expansive pitch was a vibrant green beneath him, and the sky was a perfect blue above. Stands filled with screaming fans curled around the walls so that the lockers stood out like luxury boxes. Players were caught in mid-game flying across the walls, floor, and ceiling.

It was the first image Harry could remember seeing in the wizarding world that wasn't moving. Instead the image shifted depending where one stood in the room so that the game changed with the viewer's perspective of it.

Harry bent down and ran his hand over the floor tiles, and was unsurprised to find that the floor was perfectly smooth without any indication of seams between one piece of polished stone or glass and the next. The lighting was bright and constant, and he looked around but couldn't find a source.

Further exploration revealed a shower room much like those in the dorms, another room with tubs for soaking in hot or cold water, and a long room filled with old exercise equipment including a stationary bicycle, a rowing machine, and what he suspected was an antique mechanical horse that had been charmed to operate on magic.

At the end of the locker rooms nearest the pitch was a largish room filled with comfortable chairs set on several tiers. At the front, filling the bottom tier and maybe a third of the total room, was a model of the pitch. There was another door in this room that he couldn't open, but suspected that it led to female lockers as there had only been boy-names on the lockers he had passed by. Old pennants, uniform robes, and award plaques lined the walls. A wooden rack to hold brooms near a large double-door was empty.

Harry pushed this last set of doors open and found himself walking out onto the pitch where ten people already stood waiting.

"Harry!" Thrace called him over. "Right on time. What did you think of the locker room?"

"It was nice," Harry said. "Uh…was that actually a—"

"Mechanical horse?" Thrace asked. "Everyone asks about those. All I know is that they were here before Professor Sprout was. Fully operational too… if you're into that sort of thing.

"I know I introduced you to the primaries," she continued, "but I didn't get a chance to introduce you to the Reserves yet. I was hoping to get a new seeker earlier, as it was we had to really shuffle our starting lineup.

"So you know me and Cedric, and Nym."

"Tonks," came the flat response.

Thrace grinned at the older pink-haired girl who'd helped Harry the night before. "We're the starting Chasers, and Cedric is next year's prospective Captain. Mortimer Montgomery and Casper Adams are both fourth years and starting Beaters. Winifred Meles, Fifth year and starting Keeper."

"I'm just in it for the fun," the girl said. "That's why Ced's next year's Captain, he wants to do this stuff professionally."

"That's the hope at any rate," Cedric said.

"Francis Scott," Thrace continued, indicating a girl about the Weasley twins' age, "is our utility reservist. Our specialty reservists are Dustin Smythwick, Beater."

A large boy with a square jaw nodded mutely to Harry.

"Leland Walther-Higginbotham," Thrace continued, indicating another boy barely older than Harry who was wearing a muggle t-shirt with RMMC over a heraldic device that Harry didn't recognize, but featured what he now knew to be a manticore and what looked like a muggle rifle crossed with something that reminded Harry of a spindle with oddly flared ends, "is our reserve Chaser. And finally Lucille van Pelt is our second reserve Chaser."

A vaguely annoyed-looking girl with black hair, maybe two or three years older than Harry, gave him an impatient nod.

"No reserve Seeker?" Harry asked weakly.

"Me," Cedric said. "Some of our primaries double as reservist, so I'm reserve Seeker, Mort's a reserve Keeper, and Winnie is a reserve Beater."

"Don't call me Winnie," the Keeper growled. "It's 'Fred.'"

"And now that introductions are over, a basic outline of the rules, if you remember from earlier?" Thrace asked.

"Three Chasers on a team, try to put a ball, the quaffle, through the hoops on the other side of the field. Each team gets a Keeper who tries to prevent the other team's Chasers putting quaffle through our goal-hoops. There is a pair of balls, bludgers, charmed to knock people off their brooms and each team gets two people, Beaters, who try to protect their team and get the bludgers to knock the other team's people off their brooms. There is one very small, very fast ball that is called the golden snitch and that flies around the field. Each team gets one person, the Seeker, who tried to catch the snitch which ends the game and gets the capturing team 150 points," Harry said by rote.

"Excellent," Thrace said. "Let's all get airborne and take a few laps. Harry, you never flew before the other day?"

Harry shook his head.

"Okay then, you follow along after Cedric. Mort, Casper, you have your wands? Good, you follow after them just in case. Maybe we'll do a spot of racing once we're warmed up if you feel up to it."

"Cedric?" Harry asked.

"Yes?" the older boy asked.

"Well, you mentioned a Cleansweep 6, and that's what I got, but it says CS-6S on the handle," Harry said, pointing to the broom.

Cedric nodded. "Hold a moment, Thrace," he called over to the Captain. "Different players need different capabilities in a broom, Harry. Beaters, for example, need a nice and stable broom so that they can use both arms on their bats if they have to. Keepers don't need a really high top speed because of how close together the hoops are, but they need a really fast acceleration so they can move between them quickly.

"Cleansweep began marketing charm packages that tweak a broom to emphasize various capabilities, such as for Keepers, or Beaters, or general racing, or a number of other things. The base CS-7 is still a better Beater broom, the charm package just makes it more so. The Seeker package emphasizes speed, acceleration, and maneuverability, things like that, but it isn't as stable a platform so I wouldn't take both hands off it until you have some experience."

"Oh," Harry said. He mounted his broom, and at Cedric's nod he kicked off and flew up until he was nearly to the level of the goal hoops to join the rest of the team.

"Hey, Harry, come back down for a second," Cedric called up to him.

Startled, and a little hurt, Harry let his broom settle back to the ground.

Cedric got on his own broom, facing Harry. "Can you do that again, slowly this time?"

Frowning in concentration Harry gave the ground a little kick and rode up into the air.

Cedric whistled softly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do you always do that?" Cedric asked. "Hold the shaft level while you ascend or descend?"

"Um…I guess so, I mean I don't think about it, I just…want to go higher and so I do," Harry said. "Why?"

"Because most people have to pull back on the shaft a little or press it down a little to change altitude like that," Cedric said.

"Oh."

"There's nothing wrong with it, honest," Cedric said. "It's just a really impressive bit of flying. There's no real advantage to it, but it looks flashy because most people find it difficult to do." He waved to Thrace and the seventh year started the team off on a slow circuit of the pitch.

The second and third loops were done at a much quicker speed, and the fourth done at a still faster pace. Cedric, showing off his own ability, rolled inverted to Harry, which Harry just had to try and found that his broom held him comfortably secure to it despite gravity. The older boy laughed, pushing his broom into a half-loop that Harry followed, and then followed him again as Cedric pulled his broom handle-straight up and began to accelerate out of the stadium.

Cedric began to spin slowly around the long axis of his broom, which Harry gamely mimicked, but spinning in the other action. Cedric finally stopped, hanging in the air, so high up that Hogwarts was barely the size of a post-card. Harry felt a brief moment of panic and started to slide off the back of his broom, but Cedric grabbed the back of his robes until he could find his seating on the broom while it was perpendicular to the ground.

"Did you notice that you matched my timing on the spins perfectly?" Cedric asked curiously.

"No," Harry said, looking warily at the ground.

"Not uncomfortable?"

"A little," Harry said.

"Probably a good sign," Cedric judged. "Any problems holding it perpendicular?"

"For a moment," Harry said. "Not now. I thought I'd slip off the back end, and then I was. Once I realized that the broom wouldn't let me unless I thought it would…" he shrugged.

"You ready for something a little trickier?" Cedric asked.

"Like what?"

"Like a vertical fall, maintaining orientation of our brooms, slowing at the last moment to come to a perfect landing?"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could fall and Mort and Casper could miss the catch and you ground-dart hard enough that all the magic in St. Mungo's can't save you," Cedric said seriously.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sounding considerably more confident than he felt.

Cedric grinned, then promptly slid backward towards the ground.

Harry frowned. How, exactly, did one make a broom go back—

The bottom dropped out of the sky as his broom abruptly began to fall.

He struggled with his broom for a moment, trying to accelerate backwards, then realized that he had a perfectly capable source of backwards (relative) acceleration and all he really had to do was hold on and keep the broom vertical. Laughing he added a bit of a right-ward spin. Feeling a bit more secure than he really should have for a person with less than an hour of actual flying time, he pulled his hands off and held them above his hands in the classic look-Ma-no-hands gesture.

He managed to hold it for three seconds, for five, but then his broom tipped back on its topside and entered what a muggle would have called an inverted flat spin, and a wizard a maple-seed twirl.

The broom held Harry securely to it, but it didn't do anything to stop gravity from pulling blood towards his head. Nor did the broom do anything to help Harry with the sudden vertigo caused by the sudden assault on his inner ear. He didn't have enough experience to have the muscle-memory instincts get out of the situation he was in, and while the Sorting Hat hadn't been wrong about his intellect he was far more interested in the practical use of knowledge rather than knowledge for knowledge's sake. For someone who would often find himself in life-and-death situations this was not a small thing, but in this situation it left him unable to coldly and logically reason his way out of his current predicament…and the deleterious effects on his senses was only compounding his problem.

He had, in rapid succession, three thoughts. The first was roughly 'oh shit, I'm going to die'. The second was 'I don't want to die'. The third was something vaguely along the lines of 'I don't feel so good'.

Harry lunged for his broomstick's shaft, and not only didn't manage to get it but added an uncontrolled wobble to the spin. He remembered Dudley sticking his arm out the window on the ride to the zoo, and how while going fast the air made his chubby cousin's arm go up or down depending on how he held his hand. Harry tentatively pulled his hands 'down' from where they were dangling 'above' him and slowly reached out—

Only to nearly have his arms ripped from their sockets as the centrifugal momentum pulled them 'away' from his body and added a half dozen spins around the long-axis of his broom to his problems before he allowed them to dangle again and found himself restored to his former set of circumstances. Still, he learned that his hands could change his set of circumstances.

He pulled his arms 'down' again, forcing them down along his sides to keep them from sticking out any further than he had to. Finally he managed to grip the shaft of his stick slightly in front of where he was sitting on it. Keeping a firm grip because he was not at all sure he could get it again if he lost it, he began to slowly work his grip forward on the shaft.

It wasn't as far forward as he would have liked, it certainly didn't feel natural—or at least what he thought natural _should_ feel like giving his current situation—but it was what he had to work with. Harry pulled the broomstick back into his body as hard as he could.

The good news was that he was no longer in a flat spin. The bad news was that the new angle made the inverted vertical spin feel even worse. Harry fought against the nausea, plenty of time for him to be sick after he dug a three-foot crater into the dirt.

Still, it had given him an idea, and he continued to pull back on the stick. As the axis of the spin changed slowly from his body towards the long-axis of the broom, the spins became more and more unpleasant as his body—and his head in particular—sped through increasingly large circles.

He shot through the air occupied by the rest of the team in a more or less vertical dive that reminded him unpleasantly of the dive-bombing owl at breakfast. Three or four colored lights that he assumed were spells meant to catch him all missed. Harry leaned into the spin, counteracting it, then went too far and ended up in another spin before he countered that one as well and steadied out after two more spins in the first direction.

The Quidditch Pitch was far too close for comfort but the center point with its big chalk double-rings where he assumed the quaffle would be released was a nice aiming point so he pulled back and suddenly he was right-side up and not spinning at all. Now if only could slow down.

If only he _would_ slow down…

Now would be a good time…

Harry managed to think one last rude word before the ground slammed into his feet with jarring force that lifted him off his broomstick. Nothing seemed broken, or even badly hurt. He managed two staggering steps before the world lurched under his feet and slammed into his hands just before he became reacquainted with his dinner.

"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

Harry finished what he was doing at tried to roll away, but arms pulled him to his feet.

"Harry, speak to me."

"Urk."

Hands let him go as lunch made its second appearance.

"Move back, give him some room. Cedric don't you dare try picking him up again."

Tonks knelt in front of him. "Don't try getting up yet," she advised, handing him a bottle or water.

"Urgh?" Harry managed to make it a question.

"Don't try standing until the world stops spinning," the pink-haired seventh year advised him. "Believe me, I've been there and it never ends well."

Harry managed a sound that was vaguely affirmative, and after several moments of struggle got the cap off the bottle to rinse out his mouth. He got more of the water on himself in the process, but it was a small price to pay.

Feeling somewhat clean again he decided that Tonks' advice was the best way to go and crawled away from the sick before collapsing onto his back.

"Merlin, Harry," Cedric's madly grinning face was thrust into his sight. "That was so. Bloody. _Awesome_."

"You almost got him killed!" Thrace screeched. She turned on Cedric. "Do you have any idea the amount of parchment work I would have had to do if he'd managed to kill himself? Not to mention the number of forms required in order to fix a first year-sized hole in the pitch? That was insane!"

"I know," Cedric said, still grinning. "An maple-leaf twist with not an hour on a broom and he manages to make a perfect landing."

"Perfect?" Thrace screamed. "_Perfect!_"

"Ignore them," Tonks advised Harry as the seventh year rounded on Cedric. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," Harry said honestly before giggling, the idea seemed incredibly funny. "'m alive!" he proclaimed before breaking into laughter.

He never knew how much parchment work he saved Thrace by distracting her before she attacked her Chaser. Thrace turned away from Cedric to where Harry had lapsed into hysterical giggles.

"He's cracked," Thrace said mournfully.

"He'll be fine," Tonks told her.

"Can you do that again?" Cedric asked.

Harry looked up blearily at the older boy until Tonks returning his glasses brought Cedric mostly, but not quite, into focus. Or rather _Cedrics_, there now seemed to be three of them. "Go 'way, Ced, don' wanna talk to you righ' now," he said. Then added, "Prob'ly a good thing I got a _Seeker_ broom. Don' know if I coulda stopped it' if it weren' so maneuverable."

"If that hadn't been a _6S_ he never would have been able to get into one by accident in the first place!" Thrace seethed at Cedric.

"A Nimbus he could have," Cedric disagreed. "Late model Comet, maybe he could have. A standard Cleansweep 6—"

"What do you mean you couldn't stop it?" Tonks asked.

"Fallin'," Harry grunted.

"Harry," Tonks said slowly. "It's a _broomstick_. It doesn't do a blessed thing unless you want it to."

Harry blinked at her.

"The only reason it was falling was because you thought it was, or should be, falling," the seventh year explained in the very slow voice—but without the poisonous tone—Professor Snape used when he thought someone was being particularly stupid. Since she wasn't glaring at him Harry decided that while the lecture was meant for him, the tone was meant for someone else.

"Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" Thrace asked Harry before he could reply to Tonks. She'd turned away from Cedric, argument clearly finished.

"No!" Harry said sharply.

"Yes!" an unfamiliar voice said from somewhere above, er…past him in the direction of his head, said.

"Madam Pomfrey," Cedric said.

"Diggory!" the stranger said sharply. "Getting started early on your newest team-mate, I see."

"I didn't—it wasn't like that!" Cedric protested.

"I just bet it wasn't!" the witch spat. "This-this-this…_insane_ sport and all the reckless people playing it. Sooner or later one of you people will break something that I can't grow back, just you wait and see!"

A witch appeared in Harry's vision. She wore robes that managed to convey the sense of both a nurse's smock and a doctor's coat, and a large white…hat thing that looked sort of like an abstract swan.

"Harry Potter," she said. "Why am I not surprised that you are making your way to my infirmary sooner rather than later?"

"Madam Pomfrey, I presume?" Harry asked, enunciating very carefully.

"My reputation precedes me, no doubt," the witch said. "I had hoped you would make it through your first month, Mister Potter, before you saw the need to grace my hospital wing."

"I don't need to go," Harry said, still speaking carefully. The spinning seemed to have eased and he was back down to only one Cedric.

"Oh no? Then what are you doing lying on the ground rather than trying to kill yourself playing this crazy thing you people call a sport?"

"Jus' resting a moment," Harry said.

"I can just imagine," she said witheringly. "Just give me a moment and I'll conjure up a stretcher for you."

"I can walk," Harry said quickly.

"No, you can't," the nurse-witch said. "That's just shock talking. It would be a wonder you didn't shatter a leg—_two_ legs!—what with that landing. Why, you could have broken your spine, the way you went to the ground. Or maybe you only severely concussed yourself…"

The ground seemed to lift Harry up, and then he settled on something softer, but just as firm as before.

"You, Mister Potter, are going nowhere until I've had a chance to check you over proper in my hospital wing. You _will_ be staying overnight. And if you have any foolish ideas about sneaking off, be rest assured that I will find out and will take measures to make certain of it."


	10. Chapter 10: The High Lords of Chaos

**Chapter 10: The High Lords of Chaos**

"In true education, anything that comes to our hand is as good as a book: the prank of a page- boy, the blunder of a servant, a bit of table talk - they are all part of the curriculum."  
-Michel de Montaigne-

\|/\|/\|/

The next morning Harry awoke in the hospital wing to find a small hill of get well cards and candy on the bedside cupboard, and Thrace, Cedric and Eric Bryce sitting in chairs.

"Took you long enough," Thrace said.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's not your fault," she cut Harry off with an irritated wave of her hand. "I told you to follow Cedric and you did just that. Practices are canceled for you for the next week and a half. Instead you will spend the time, and three hours on Saturdays and Sundays until I tell you different, working one-on-one with Cedric. All the natural talent in the world won't help you if you don't actually have the necessary skills to use it efficiently."

"But the team…"

"The team will be just fine," she said crossing her arms. "It'll give me the chance to shuffle the lineup some and start getting the reserves used to being called in. What _will_ affect the team is the year of detentions you have with Filch."

Thrace shook her head in disgust. "What can any first year do, that'll get him a year of detentions with Filch?"

"It was Allie's idea, actually," Harry said.

"Who?" Thrace asked.

"Is she one of those Gryffindor/Ravenclaw twins you hang with?" Bryce asked.

"No," Cedric said. "She's his friend in Slytherin who came by the other night."

Harry looked at the Prefect. "Um…" he began, "why are, I mean…"

"We always try to have a prefect nearby when one of ours is in the hospital wing," Eric said. "Just in case there is something that you need someone to know or in case something needs to be done."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Do you have anything like that you want to tell me?" Bryce asked.

"No."

"Alright then," he said. He nodded to the other two. "Sam, Cedric, be seeing you."

Harry waited for the Prefect to leave before he turned back to Thrace and continued. "Anyway, Allie…figured it out. Me and the team, I mean. Something about Professor Sprout dancing in her greenhouses and you booking the pitch solid for a week."

"So much for it being a surprise," Thrace muttered.

"No, it is, still, I think," Harry said. "She keeps secrets really well, and, well, she told me that if we wanted it kept a secret I should have gotten some points taken or something. So I, uh, may have told Draco Malfoy that Professor Sprout assigned me a load of extra work for the rest of the year to keep me out of trouble. And when I got the broom yesterday, well, he figured out what it was, but Padma Patil pointed out that brooms charmed to resist magic aren't exactly something a magical castle would have on hand."

"So Ravenclaw knows too," Thrace said unhappily.

"Be fair," Cedric said. "He did pull the catch off in front of the 'claw firsties."

"Padma said that the older years said that they exaggerated the difficulty of the catch," Harry said. "That none of us had enough experience to really judge height, and performance on a broom, or the difficulty of a catch."

"Right, well, I was hoping for a surprise, but I suppose the likelihood of the secret being kept for a couple of months was never really high," Thrace muttered. "And to be far, detentions are a pretty good cover. Okay, Harry, you have a week and a half to master the basics, and Cedric is your flying coach until I say otherwise. Get well and learn fast, because the week after next we start full team practices."

She turned to Cedric, "Teach him, but keep him healthy, Diggory, or you'll discover that only reserve Seeker or no, you are _not_ irreplaceable."

Harry and Cedric watched as she stalked out of the Hospital Wing.

"Oh," Thrace said, ducking back into the room, "There is one more thing. Mr. Potter, you _will_ be seen performing menial cleaning around the castle. Just to keep up appearances."

"I suppose I deserved that," Cedric said when she had left.

"I'm sorry if I got you in trouble," Harry said.

"Thrace was right," Cedric told him. "It wasn't your fault. You followed me so easily I forgot that you had just barely gotten on a broom. Madam Pomfrey says that you can go whenever you are feeling well enough. I had one of your robes brought up and stashed in the cupboard so you don't need to walk through the halls wearing one of those hospital robes."

"Thanks," Harry said.

Cedric nodded. "I suggest eating a light dinner tonight. I'll show you where the kitchens are after practice if you're feeling hungry because this evening the first thing you'll be learning is how to properly pull out of an inverted maple-seed twirl."

"Can we not and say we did?" Harry asked.

"No," Cedric said.

Harry sighed and slumped back in the bed as Cedric grinned wildly.

\|/\|/\|/

After a day spent looking forward to getting to ride his very own broom, Harry found himself gripped by a melancholy that even teaming up with Parvati in Double Herbology to tend merry-golds failed to break. Parvati ended up doing most of the work in that class because whenever Harry got too close, the merry-golds would turn all blue and mopey-looking.

When lunchtime finally arrived he was strongly considering begging off the rest of his classes due to the events of the previous evening and going to bed. His stomach, having not had a really good meal since lunch the day before, took exception to that idea so he reluctantly allowed his friends to drag him down to the Great Hall.

He felt a tingling sensation as he sat down, and after a moment of searching found a spot on the underside of the table that was warm to the touch.

"What is it?" Ernie asked.

"The rune," Harry said.

Ernie frowned, but then his eyes widened and he nodded in understanding.

Lunch was a generally informal affair so they had never seriously considered that the twins would prank it. There were just too many people who would come in early or late instead of everyone sitting down at once. A prank in the food at lunch could be assured to only get a portion of the students. Apparently the twins had gone ahead and pranked it anyway.

Fortunately lunch was not yet served and Harry was able to surreptitiously draw his wand and tap the controlling rune. It chilled briefly, and then there was just smooth wood under his fingers, without a trace of odd temperatures.

Harry helped himself to a chicken salad sandwich from one of the platters, and filled his glass with pumpkin juice and another with milk.

"_Look_," Justin hissed, kicking him under the table.

Harry looked up and the muggle-born nodded towards the High Table. He turned, and almost choked on his sandwich.

All of the witches on the staff that were present had sprouted magnificently luxurious and incredibly long mustaches and beards that were striped in the colors of all the Hogwarts Houses. The male professors didn't grow facial hair (though Dumbledore's did turn colors to match), but instead grew extra-curly, floor-length tresses that were likewise striped.

"Oh," he said. "Wow. Um…"

"Yeah, look at Professor Snape."

Snape's new hair was not the least bit greasy or oily, but it…puffed from his head, only just managing to keep from being bushy.

"Heh," Harry said, beginning to chuckle.

"_Fred and George WEASLEY!_" McGonagall shouted in outrage.

"Who, us?" One of the twins protested. "We'd never prank the professors, Professor McGonagall—"

"Not like that," the other said. "Really, you have to believe us."

"I do, do I?" she asked.

"Have you ever known us to do such amateurish work?" the first asked.

"Indeed, at lunchtime?" the other asked. "Not all of the students, or Professors for that matter, are here."

"Unless of course we did it just because other people wouldn't think that we would do it," the other countered. "But that color-change—"

"Strictly low-class work. Far better to give each Head of House their own colors."

"Except Professor Snape, of course, he looks quite fetching in gold and red."

"Fix it," McGonagall seethed. "_Now_."

"Eh, it'll wear off in a—" The twin speaking stopped abruptly. "Oops?"

"Ten points each from Gryffindor," McGonagall said coldly.

"But we didn't do it!" the other twin protested. "I mean we did, but only to the Houses."

"Gred is right," the first said. "We wouldn't dream of pranking the Professors like this."

"And detention."

"Now really, Professor, have we ever lied to you?" the second asked.

Harry watched as McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I mean when it was important?"

He could see Professor McGonagall considering them.

"We didn't do this, Professor," the first said seriously. "We meant it as a harmless prank on the houses, honest we did."

"You are suggesting that some person on persons unknown took a prank on the other houses and switched it so that it targeted the Professors," Professor McGonagall said, idly stroking her beard. "And did it in the Great Hall, just now, without anyone noticing a thing?"

Her hand paused as she realized what she was doing and angrily crossed her arms.

"Yes!" both said.

"We'll even bet a second detention that if you checked you'd find evidence."

"We will?" the first asked.

"Fine," McGonagall said shortly. "But if you are wrong those detentions will be with Professor Snape, and Mr. Filch!"

She turned back towards the Head Table, "Professor Dumbledore. If you would be so kind?"

Professor Dumbledore stood, not trying to hide the fact that he was stroking his own beard which clashed horribly with his robes. He raised his wand in his other hand, swishing it around the Great Hall as he chanted softly.

Harry knew he was doomed. The spell would find the runes that had anchored the switching spells, which would lead to the rune by his seat, the one that controlled the whole thing. He'd have broken the rules again, and this time the expulsion from riding the broom when he wasn't supposed to would catch up and—

Nothing happened.

He was still gaping at the featureless table when Professor Dumbledore turned to McGonagall and said. "I can find no evidence of a switching spell on our food or table service."

"But—"

"Two detentions, each," McGonagall told the twins. "With Professor Snape and Mr. Filch."

"Wow," Justin said in a low voice. "I was sure we were going to be caught."

"Yeah," Ernie said. "So what are we going to do next?"

"Do next?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, what prank are we going to pull off next?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I guess I never really thought about it." He hesitated, "do you think we should?"

Ernie nodded, "Mum always said that pranks and practical jokes were something of a Hogwarts tradition. Way I see it, the Weasley twins won't be around for forever. Besides, who would suspect us?" he asked, giving an ironic wave to Hufflepuff table, as he quoted an old joke in the common room that none of them really quite understood.

"If we do this, we're going to need those girls that are friends of yours, and those two people on the Quidditch team," Justin said. "That'll give us access to all four houses, plus some fourth and seventh year magic. I don't know about the two of you but I can't think of any good pranks involving boil-removal potion or turning matchsticks into needles."

The three traded looks.

"Okay then," Harry said. "I'll approach Tonks and Cedric this evening before Quidditch practice, then I'll talk to Padma, Parvati, and Allie. Start coming up with a list of ideas, if you can, and maybe people we can prank?"

"We can do that," Ernie said.

"Alright then," Harry said.

\|/\|/\|/

The melancholy from morning disappeared just as quickly as it had come, and Harry once again found himself passing the day in a blur. He did manage to eat more than he had the day before when dinner rolled around, but mindful of his previous evening's flight it wasn't much more. When Cedric left the table he got up as well and hurried after the older boy out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Ready, Harry?" Cedric asked.

"I think so," Harry said. "I didn't eat a lot, just in case."

Cedric nodded. "Remind me to show you the kitchens after practice. They aren't far from our common room. Just wait until Halloween rolls around, the whole common room is filled with smells from the feast that is baking."

"Wow," Harry said. "So, Halloween is a big deal?"

Cedric nodded.

"Because of, well…" he shrugged uncomfortably.

Cedric looked at him. "Somewhat," he admitted steadily. "But Halloween has always been an important day for us. You'll understand more in a couple of years. It's kind of hard to explain."

"Oh," Harry said.

Cedric showed him where he now had his own wooden locker. A yellow uniform with black trim hung in it, along with guards, gloves, several small boxes, a longer box on its own rack, a broom rack, and several other things he couldn't identify.

"Used to be we wore yellow and black stripes," Cedric said as he went to his own locker. "Thrace changed it when she became captain, said we looked too much like the Wasps—that's one of the professional league teams—and she was sore with them for beating her team in the league finals."

"What are these boxes?" Harry asked as he quickly changed.

"The small ones hold a practice snitch a piece," Cedric said. "Game snitches are charmed to recognize the person who touches them first in case both Seekers grab it at almost the same time. Practice snitches are reusable, though they do wear out, and don't record who catches them. The larger one is a basic broom maintenance kit.

"I'll show you the basics later, but you're going to have to experiment a little. Different brooms respond to shaft-oils in different ways, and it's going to at least partially depend on what you're trying to do."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, I've always found that using citrus oil affects maneuverability. Lemon-seed oils makes for a stiffer ride, which helps some in windy weather to avoid being blown off-course, while orange seed oil makes for snappier turns. You'll have to see what various oils do for you and learn to plan accordingly so you don't over-polish your broom.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Harry agreed instantly.

"Good, follow me."

Harry followed Cedric through the shower area and the workout facilities into the multi-level room. The rest of the team was perched in seats as Thrace used her wand to manipulate tiny figures on brooms around the mock-up of the pitch.

Cedric motioned to a pair of seats on the very highest level. "The seven yellow figures represent us, blue for Ravenclaw, red for the Gryffs, green for the snakes."

"So in this case, Slytherin," Harry said.

Cedric nodded. "You see the two yellow figures with Xs under them? Those are the principal players in the play she's demonstrating. The green K is the opposing Keeper, the person the play is against. The other players on both sides have letters based on the position they play."

"What do the bars over and under the Xs represent?" Harry asked.

"This is a variation of the Porskoff Ploy called the K-option-two," Cedric explained. "Usually the move is used to draw off a defending Chaser by having the Chaser with the quaffle go into a climb, and when the opposing Chaser mimics the move, drop the quaffle to the second Chaser below. The bars represent which Chaser goes up, and which is the second one below.

"In this case Thrace wants to do the same thing with the opposing Keeper—the 'K'. The trick is in the timing. The first Chaser has to be in the scoring area, or close enough to it that the Keeper has to honor the threat, then toss or drop the ball to the second.

"The 'option-two' comes from the first Chaser having two options in the play. The first is whether or not to cross into the scoring area. Doing so is more effective at drawing off the Keeper, while not crossing makes the timing of the toss easier since the first Chaser doesn't have to get clear. The second option is that if the Keeper does _not_ honor the first Chaser's threat, the Chaser can keep the quaffle and try to score, hoping that the second Chaser breaks off before entering the scoring area which would result any points being removed and the other team getting a penalty shot for having two Chasers in the scoring area."

"It sounds complex," Harry said.

Cedric nodded. "We tried this last year, could never quite pull it off. The problem was that the third Chaser has to block at least two other players or it doesn't work. Last year the third Chaser wasn't quite good enough. I want to try a different blocking scheme I came up with over the summer."

"I'm sorry for taking you away from practice," Harry said.

"You're not," Cedric said. "Tonks may have some problems on the ground but she's a first-rate flier. Good enough to get on a professional team as a reservist if she wanted to. Thrace is going to split the team up and practice the blocks on both sides, see if it is practical enough to spend the time making it part of our game book."

He turned his attention to the miniature stadium for a moment. "Remind me to get you a copy of the entire rule book so that you can memorize all of the fouls."

"Are there a lot of fouls?" Harry asked carefully.

"Over seven hundred," Cedric said.

"That's a lot," Harry said with wide eyes.

"Not as many as you might think," Cedric said. He turned back to Harry and explained. "Everyone is allowed to carry their wand onto the field. That's a fundamental right, guaranteed back when people were still scared of muggles hunting them down. But you can't use your wand on any player, broom, ball, equipment, referee, or spectator. So there are a bunch of fouls, such as transfiguring an opposing Chaser into a polecat, that simply aren't called anymore. Then there are a bunch of fouls that hark back to the sport's bloodier days that are still on the books but the situations just don't occur anymore. I don't think it's likely, for example, that you'll try to decapitate the opposing team's Keeper with a broadsword or release a hundred blood-sucking vampire bats from your robes.

"The actual list of fouls that still occur with any regularity comes down to two dozen or so items." Cedric grinned and added, "not that that is going to get you out of having to memorize all seven hundred of them."

Thrace finished up her presentation and the other players began filing outside. Cedric and Harry stood up to follow, but Tonks broke away from Thrace and came back up the stairs towards them.

"Hey, squirt, tell that friend of yours that lunch was bloody hilarious," Tonks said, grinning widely.

"I will, thanks," Harry said. "Um, Ernie and Justin and I were wondering if you'd like to do it again."

Tonks cocked her head to one side and looked down at him. "Who and when?"

"We, uh, haven't decided yet," Harry said.

"I suppose," Tonks said. "Unless I totally throw my N.E.W.T.s I've already got a job locked up, and I suppose sneaking around would be good practice. How about you, Ced?"

Cedric groaned. "If we get caught I can kiss being Prefect good bye."

Tonks shrugged. "So don't get caught."

"'So don't get caught,' she says," he muttered. He shook his head and turned to Harry. "Fine. I'm in," he said, "for now. Do you have a place picked out?"

"A place?" Harry asked.

"To conspire," Tonks said sagely. "All good pranksters need a secret lair. Oh, and secret names. That'll make Ced happy since nobody will connect a pranksterish name with Pompous-Prefect-to-be Cedric Diggory."

"I'm not pompous," Cedric objected.

"That's because you aren't a Prefect yet," Tonks said sadly. "A strange thing happens to people who put on that badge, Ced, I thought you knew this. You'll pin that badge on and you'll never be the same. You'll be a shadow, a fragment of your former self. Just look at what happened to Percival."

Cedric and Harry both shuddered. Harry had only met Ron's older brother in passing, but that had been more than enough.

"I'm not sure that Percy wasn't that way to start with," Cedric muttered.

Tonks didn't say anything for a moment, then turned expectantly to Harry. "You seem to have this all thought out. So, lair?"

"Um…no," Harry admitted. "Do you know of any good places?"

"How about one of the three towers?" Tonks suggested.

"Three towers?"

Cedric nodded slowly. "There are twenty two towers—or possibly twenty-three, nobody is quite certain. I'm not talking about the normal towers that are part of the castle walls and such, I mean the tall things that, well, tower above the school. Most of them have known entrances, even if they aren't all used. But there are three that, to the best of my knowledge, nobody knows the way inside. Apparently I was mistaken." He looked at Tonks.

"I was thinking we could just use our brooms to fly up and find a way out from inside," Tonks admitted. "After practice?"

"I guess," Cedric said reluctantly. He shook his head. "We're wasting time. Let's go get airborne."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry spent the next hour and a half following Cedric through various maneuvers at steadily increasing speeds. Towards the end of it Cedric led him well above the stadium, and with Harry following in a conventional dive, demonstrated how to first get out of a standard maple-seed twirl, and then how to get out of an inverted one. When the rest of the team broke up to head to the locker rooms, Tonks flew over and together they spent another half hour teaching Harry how to see not only where a flier was, but predict where he would be and how to avoid him without losing his course and only a minimum of speed.

With light fading fast they landed and quickly showered and changed, before taking their brooms and flying towards the castle.

Cedric pointed out Gryffindor Tower and the Tower of Ivory and Silver (its official name), Ravenclaw Tower (which everyone knew it by), or the Tower of Knowledge (as the snobbier Ravenclaws called it). Tonks pointed out the North Tower where Divination classes were held and the Divination Professor, an "old bat" named Trelawny, lived. The tallest tower, the flat-roofed Astronomy Tower, Harry already knew from his lessons there.

Cedric led them to the central-most tower in Hogwarts, a high, spindly tower made of stone that was so cunningly fitted together Harry couldn't feel a seam. This extended even to the windows, or rather, a distinct lack thereof.

The second tower was an elegant spire not far from, and taller than, Ravenclaw tower. Unlike the first tower it did have windows, but they were black, impossible to see through, and equally impossible for Cedric or Tonks to charm open.

The third tower took some work to find. In the end they had simply started flying circuits around Hogwarts from the inner-most towers to the outer most while Tonks and Cedric slowly identified each one and how to enter it. The tower was nondescript bordering on shabby. Not particularly tall, not particularly wide, the tiles on the roof in need of repair or at least a good scrubbing. It was easily overlooked, and even once they had focused on it Harry's eyes kept slipping away from it.

One floor seemed entirely surrounded by windows, one of which they found open. Tonks and Cedric flew inside without problem, and Harry followed at a more sedate pace. It was dark inside, and he had to land by feel and instinct more than sight. It only got darker as Cedric closed the window and charmed the windows black before conjuring a small ball of light. He conjured another for Harry and demonstrated how to control it with his wand as Tonks cast a spell that caused her wand to flare like a torch.

"Bit of weather damage," Cedric said. "Nothing we can't fix, I imagine."

It was a great deal more than 'a bit', Harry thought. Two ruined couches, a number of ruined chairs, ruined tables, several books that had turned into a puddle of rotting paper by rainstorm and snow, piles of leafs blown in by the wind and left to decompose into dirt…the list was endless.

Tonks did something and there was a horrible screeching as a spiral wrought-iron staircase descended from the ceiling. They trooped up one at a time, conscious of the shaking and the groans of the staircase. The top room had come through without any of the damage from below, but there was an incredibly thick coat of dust over everything. There were a couple of old chairs in the center, along with study desks. Bookshelves lined the low walls surrounding the chamber, and one section of roof looked like it was supposed to be able to slide aside.

"There was probably a telescope here," Tonks said.

"What makes you say that?" Cedric asked.

She pointed at the ceiling. "My dad took me to a muggle observatory once. Said they made better telescopes than we do. It had an opening like that to stick the telescope out of, and the whole thing could turn to look at different parts of the sky."

"Well…I suppose it could make a convenient place to fly into and out of, if we could make it work from outside and didn't use it in bad weather," Cedric said.

"Or when people would notice," Tonks added. "Wish I had this my fifth year, would have made studying for the Astronomy O.W.L. a lot easier."

"There is that," Cedric said with a nod, clearly happy about the idea.

They decided to check out the books later and trooped down the staircase one by one. A second staircase ran along the outside wall and circled down.

Cedric led them down to find the stair ended in a short hall with two doors on either side. Each had a room filled with old furniture badly in need of either repair or disposal. A more conventional set of stairs was at the end of the hall, all they worked their way down through three more levels of similar design. Some with fewer rooms, some with more. Some of the rooms had clearly designed purposes including a store room for potions and another for potion ingredients, both of which flanked a much larger room that was clearly a potion laboratory. Others were entirely empty and just needed a really good scrubbing.

They didn't find any more windows, but there were the usual sconces, torches, lanterns and lamps. Cedric had wanted to light them, but Tonks had pointed out that they were supposed to be 'sneaky', and that there would be a time for cleaning everything up and lighting all the lamps and such later.

Finally they arrived at a flight of stone stairs that led down to an iron-bound oak door. There was a large iron plate with a keyhole in it, but no key, and an iron ring that served as a handle. Bolts at the top and bottom of the door, one set on each side, were slid into the stone walls as an extra safety precaution. In the center of the door, a bit above Harry's height, was a small rectangular section that could be slid aside to see who was on the other side of the door.

"Well now we know why nobody ever got in here," Tonks said as she used her wand to slide back the upper bolts as Cedric did the same with the lower ones. Unlike the folding iron spiral staircase or many of the other doors they had tried to open, the bolts slid back cleanly and without a squeak. Tonks pulled the door open. "Now we just have to figure out where—"

She pitched forward, and both Cedric and Harry grabbed onto the back of her robes.

"Gah," she said, pulling away from them. "Why don't you two just choke me next time?"

"Or we could just let you fall," Cedric said, gesturing the light-ball through the door ahead of them. "Looks like one of the galleries in the upper walls."

Harry followed them through the door and looked around. Suits of armor stood at tidy intervals down both sides of the long hall. After every third set of armor was a gargoyle perched on a plinth. Shields and weapons hung on the walls, all looking bright and shiny…and very, very sharp.

Harry turned as Cedric started to pull the door closed. "Wait!" he blurted.

"What?"

"Look at the door," Harry said.

"What about it?" Tonks asked.

"There's no keyhole on this side," Harry said. "Why would there be a keyhole on the inside but not the outside?"

"Because it only locks from the inside?" Cedric suggested.

"That's what the bolts are for," Harry disagreed. "They'd be better than an ordinary lock, wouldn't they?"

"You have a point," Tonks said suspiciously. She waved her wand over the keyhole and chanted for a moment. "Well," she said finally. "There _is_ some kind of magic on it, but I don't recognize it. It probably keys off magic somehow."

"Keys off magic?" Harry asked.

"Recognizes a specific magical signature," Tonks said. "Sort of like the password that guards some of the other common rooms, only with magic instead of words."

"I wonder…" Harry muttered, then stuck his wand in the keyhole. Nothing happened. Disappointed he tried to pull out his wand only to find it was stuck fast. "My wand's stuck," he said.

"What did you think was going to happen?" Tonks said.

"Well Olivander said that every wand was different, I was just thinking to myself what would every witch or wizard carry that has a one-of-a-kind magic to it?"

"That's a good idea," Tonks said nodding slowly.

"Harry," Cedric said. "It's a keyhole, did you try turning it?"

"Um…no," Harry said. Feeling rather foolish he twisted his wand and felt a very heavy _thunk_.

_Please select a password_.

"Did it do anything?" Cedric asked.

"I felt something move, sort of like what you'd feel turning a key with a heavy lock," Harry said.

_Please select a password_.

"And my wand's still stuck, but now a voice is asking me to select a password.'

"A voice is asking you to select a password?" Tonks asked dubiously.

_Please select a password_.

"Yeah, sort of like the Sorting Hat spoke. I can hear it up here," Harry said, tapping the side of his head.

"Well, try setting a password," Cedric said.

_Please select a password_.

Harry thought for a moment, recalling the shelf full of books in Dudley's second bedroom that his cousin had never even touched. He hadn't been allowed into that room all that often, but he'd been allowed in often enough over the years to clean it and unlike the toys, Dudley never seemed to notice if one of the books was misplaced.

_The password is: 'What I tell you three times is true.'_

There was another heavy _thunk _and then his wand slid free of the lock.

"Did it work?" Harry asked.

"I don't see a keyhole, but maybe you just have to touch where the keyhole should be," Cedric said. "Let's close the door and try it. If it doesn't work we'll just have to fly up and try it again."

Harry shrugged and stepped into the gallery so that Tonks could push the door closed. From the other side came the sound of the bolts slamming back into place.

"Okay," Tonks said. "What's the password."

"The password is: 'What I tell you three times is true.'"

Cedric gave him a puzzled look as Tonks mouthed the short phrase before breaking out into a smile.

"'Just the place for a snark! The Bellman cried, as he landed his crew with care,'" Tonks said slowly. "'Supporting each man on the top of the tide by a finger entwined in his hair.'"

"'Just the place for a snark! I have said it twice, that alone should encourage the crew,'" Harry quoted happily. "'Just the place for a snark! I have said it thrice…'"

"'And what I tell you three times is true!" both finished in a rush.

"What are you two talking about?" Cedric asked.

"Muggle story, my dad was a fan of the author," Tonks said. "I have a copy of his complete works if you want to borrow it." She turned back to the iron plate where the keyhole should have been and touched it with her wand. "What I tell you three times is true."

Nothing happened.

"Drat," Tonks said. "And it would have been perfect too."

"Maybe it's only keyed to Harry's wand?" Cedric asked. "Harry, you try it."

Harry took a step up to the door. "Hey, I see a keyhole."

"Really?" Tonks asked. "Huh, good call, Ced."

Harry stuck his wand in the keyhole. "What I tell you three times is true."

The bolts slammed back and he pulled the door open.

Cedric stuck his wand into the keyhole on the inside and twisted his wand, but nothing happened.

"A one use door?" he asked.

"Kind of big, don't you think?" Tonks returned. "Harry, if you would again?"

Harry stuck his wand into the interior keyhole and twisted it.

"See?" Tonks asked. "Hey, now there's an exterior one as well. I wonder…" she stuck in her own wand on the exterior hole and twisted it. A moment later the door spat her wand back out. "Try closing it and let's see if it works."

Harry stepped into the short passage before the staircase leading up into the tower and pulled the door closed. He watched as all the bolts immediately slid back into place. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the bolts slid back and Tonks pulled the door open and grinned at him from the gallery.

"Now do Ced's wand," she told him.

Harry stuck his wand back in and Cedric did the same on the outside of the door, and when the door spat out Cedric's wand they repeated the test.

"So now we have a hideout," Tonks said. A clock began to chime somewhere far off.

"Curfew," Cedric said.

"Don't you wish you'd been sorted into Gryffindor?" Tonks asked. "We could have just flown to the tower, then."

Cedric grimaced and started down the gallery, Tonks and Harry following after him.

"Hey, Ced?" Tonks asked after half a minute or so.

"Yes?"

"Do you know where we are?"

"Not really, why?"

"I just thought it funny we're walking down this hall with our brooms. I mean, practice is over, right?"

"Yes," Cedric said slowly.

"So why are we in this hall with our brooms?" Harry asked.

Cedric stopped, turned to look at Harry, and started to reply, only to pause. "I don't know. I remember staying after the rest of the team had gone in to the locker rooms, we must have too because we aren't wearing Quidditch robes."

"Then what are we doing in this hall?" Tonks asked. "It certainly isn't on the way to the sett."

Harry turned and started walking back the way they had come.

"Harry, where are you going?" Cedric asked.

"Look, the last thing I remember is flying around dodging Tonks who was trying to get in my way," Harry said. "I want to see where we came from."

"Except that way is a dead end," Tonks said. "Look, there's a big wall."

"Yes," Harry called back, "but we came from this way, didn't we?"

"I think so?" Tonks asked uncertainly.

Harry shook his head and turned back. "Nothing there," he reported.

"Harry," Cedric said slowly, having watched Harry as he walked down the hall. "You didn't reach the wall."

"Yes I did," Harry said with a frown. "There's a pair of gargoyles with a suit of armor between, and a couple of shields on the wall." He turned back and looked. "See?"

"You didn't reach the wall," Tonks said. "Ced and I watched you. And I'm pretty sure those weren't there before."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"No, not really," Tonks said. "But I thought the wall was blank before." She looked at Cedric, but the younger student shrugged back.

"I didn't notice," Cedric admitted.

The two older students traded looks.

"What?" Harry asked. "What is it?"

"Something is playing with our perception," Cedric said. "Aversion wards, maybe, or perhaps a localized memory charm. There's probably a good reason for them."

"Like what?" Tonks asked.

Cedric frowned but didn't reply.

"Right then, I'm with Harry on this," Tonks decided. "I want to see where we came from." She turned and marched towards the wall, wand flicking angrily before her. Halfway there she turned back. "No," she called. "Nothing there."

"Tonks, you never made it to the wall," Cedric called back.

Tonks stopped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Cedric said.

"Well the heck with that," she said and began to walk backwards.

"That's a really bad idea, isn't it?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"Where she is concerned, definitely," Cedric said in the same tone. "What if something important, or dangerous, is down there?"

"Like what?"

"Like the forbidden corridor."

Harry frowned. "That's not where near here…is it?"

"No," Cedric agreed. "But—"

"And anyway, this is the wrong hall to get to it."

"You're sure?"

"We, uh, ended up in the corridor the other night trying to avoid Filch," Harry admitted.

"Merlin, please tell me you didn't," Cedric groaned.

Harry shrugged.

"I suppose I can forget being Prefect next year if we go through with this," Cedric said.

"What do you mean, 'if', Ced?" Tonks called back to them.

"When," Cedric sighed. After a moment he turned expectantly to Harry. "Well?"

"What?" Harry asked defensively.

"So what was in there?" Cedric asked.

"A giant three-headed dog and a trap door."

"The dog must be guarding the door," Cedric said. "Tonks, stop, you're almost—"

Tonks stopped, or rather her feet did. The rest of her body kept moving, and there was a startled yelp as she fell backwards through the wall which rippled in response but remained smooth and hard-looking.

"Tonks!" Cedric shouted, running down the gallery towards the wall with Harry right behind him.

"I'm fine," Tonks' voice echoed back at them. "No need to make a big deal about it, sheesh."

"Er, Tonks?" Harry asked as they stopped before the wall.

"Ow," Tonks muttered. "What is it?"

"There's this wall."

"What wall?" Tonks asked.

Cedric held up a hand and pressed it against the wall. "It feels solid."

"Funny, Diggory, really funny," Tonks said.

"No wait, Cedric, do that again," Harry said.

Cedric pressed his hand against the wall. "Am I supposed to be feeling for something in particular?"

"Your hand isn't touching the wall," Harry said. "It's pressed against the air just above it."

"Ha-ha," Tonks said. "Joke's over."

"We're serious, Tonks, we can't see y-_ah!_" Cedric jerked back as a hand appeared from the wall, a solitary finger extended to poke him between the eyes.

Another hand reached out, grabbed the front of Harry's school robes, and pulled him into the wall.

"Tonks?" he asked.

"Wotcher, Harry," she grinned at him. "Got Ced good, did I?"

Harry frowned, remembering the tower and its weird lock. "Cedric, grab my hand," he said, sticking a hand out. Cedric grabbed it, and Harry pulled a reluctant Cedric through whatever magical barrier had stuck him on the other side.

"If we have to go through that every time, maybe this place isn't going to work out so well," Cedric said.

"Only one way to find out," Tonks said. She turned and walked halfway down the gallery, then turned and slowly walked back. "C'mon. The aversion charm and wall are still there, but as long as you keep them in mind they aren't all that intense."

Harry and Cedric each tried it, then all three of them did it together.

"I think it got easier the second time," Harry said.

"Me too," Tonks said. "Not sure if we're just getting used to it, or if there's something more complex in the works."

\|/\|/\|/

Despite what he had told Justin and Ernie, Harry found himself forced to wait until Friday night before he could get the twins and Allie alone long enough to explain what they wanted to do and about the tower they had found. Parvati had been taken with the idea right away, and had begun to think of rumors she could start to deflect attention even before her sister or Allie could respond to the idea. Padma had also agreed, albeit reluctantly, but Allie had surprised Harry by refusing.

"It isn't you, or the general idea, I have a problem with," she had told Harry, "or even that you have friends that you want in on it. The problem is that eight people is really too many. It's what almost got us in trouble the other night."

Harry had found himself not knowing how to respond to that, but Parvati had quickly pointed out that there was no reason why they all had to go together on every prank, and Padma had added that there were a lot more possibilities with the two upperclassmen as well as having people from each house.

So one Saturday morning in late-September, Hogwarts was treated to a very rare scene as Harry led a coalition of first-years from all four houses and a fourth-year and seventh-year from Hufflepuff, down one of the seldom-visited galleries that filled the center of Hogwarts' walls. Together Harry, Cedric, and Tonks had gotten them through the aversion field and wall illusion, and then Harry had used his wand to key the other first years' to the door.

"It's very dirty," Padma observed as they entered the first level. She opened one of the doors, stuck her head inside, and then sneezed explosively.

"It will take a bit of cleaning," Cedric agreed. "I'm not sure if you can handle cleaning charms yet, but I know where Filch hides the magical cleaning supplies. We can just grab all the animated feather dusters and let them fly loose for a couple of days. Same for the bristle brushes though we'll need to come up with something to keep their soapy water fresh."

"I'm going to need to take a careful look at those potions and supplies," Tonks said.

"It looked like they were under a preservation charm that held up well," Allie told her. "But I agree. We'll definitely want to get rid of all the plant-base material. Preservation spells may keep them from decaying but they just don't keep things properly fresh. The dried stuff should still be good, though."

"You know a lot about potions?" Tonks asked.

"A fair bit," Allie said.

"We're going to need new furniture," Harry said as they reached the main room.

"I know where we can get some," Tonks said.

"Where?" Cedric asked.

"Staff room," Tonks said. "They have the most comfortable couches…"

"How would you know that?" Ernie asked.

"Because, Mr. Macmillan," Snape's head sneered from where it had suddenly sprouted from Tonks' neck, "I know everything." His face and greasy hair melted back into Tonks' smiling face and bubblegum-pink hair.

"Blimey, you're a metamorphmagus," Ernie said.

"A who-what?" Justin asked.

"A what-who," Padma corrected.

"Who-what-what?" he asked.

"What?" Tonks asked.

"Who-what," Justin repeated. He gestured to Padma, and added seriously, "what who?"

"Stop it," Cedric said.

"What?" Justin asked innocently. Then held up his hands as Ernie made a threatening gesture, "Sorry. So what is a metamowhatsit?"

"A metamorphmagus," Ernie repeated. "A person who can change themselves into anyone else, real or imagined."

"Let me get this straight," Justin said slowly, turning to Tonks. "You turned yourself into one of the _Professors_, just so that you could try out the couches in the staff room?"

"Not just that," Tonks said with a careless shrug. "But yeah, basically."

"Brilliant," Parvati said. "We can have our own Weasley twin on cue."

"No we can't," her sister disagreed. "Everyone else in the school already knows. Don't they?" she asked Tonks.

"Pretty much."

"Besides," Harry said. "Are those two ever seen apart?"

"Not often," Cedric told him.

"How complete is the transformation?" Allie asked suddenly.

"I can pretend to be a different professor if that's what you're asking."

Allie shook her head. "I mean, are you re-arranging soft tissue to take on the appearance of bone structure, or are you actually changing your bones as well?"

"The latter," Tonks said carefully. "There are limits on how much I can change my internal bits, but I can change proportions fairly easily so I can be taller or shorter and whatnot. I'm pretty much fixed as far as mass goes. Why?"

Allie shook her head, "just a stray thought."

"I can't say that I care much for the idea of being a thief," Justin said.

Harry nodded in agreement, "Justin has a point."

"Fair exchange is no robbery," Allie countered.

"What she said," Tonks added. "We can always leave these behind, or I could transfigure some new ones. Maybe tie-dyed colors?"

"Tie-dye?" Cedric asked.

"It's a type of color pattern used by some muggles," Tonks explained, gesturing with her wand at one wall. A swirl of yellow and black appeared on it.

"House colors," Cedric said nodding slowly as Tonks canceled the charm. "Yeah, I like that idea."

"We're going to need a really big coming-out prank," Parvati said. "Maybe we can do that to everyone's robes?"

"Too much," Padma said. "Especially for a prank this early in our careers, but something we can definitely work our way up to. Let's just swap house colors for now."

"Swap one color," Ernie said. "Give the Gryffindors our black, give Slytherin their gold, and give the Ravenclaws their silver."

"That's a start of a prank," Allie said. "What else, the Professors too?"

"No," Harry said. "Them we give all of the house colors, but we make them stripes or polka-dots or something. Maybe give each of them something too? Something witty."

"I know the Slytherin upper years say that Professor Sprout has her classes doing a lot of repotting," Allie noted. "Maybe a potted plant charmed to plant pots?"

"Now _that's_ funny," Tonks said. "And Snape can get a cauldron charmed to talk back at him. What about Flitwick?"

"We can come up with something later, the other Professors too," Cedric said.

"We'll also need a song," Parvati said. "Something to introduce us as…well, pranksters 'cause I don't want everyone to know _I_ am the one doing it, but so that the Weasleys aren't getting the credit. For that we're going to need a name. It'll also keep the Twins from targeting us."

They traded looks.

"She's right," Cedric said at last. "But I'm drawing a blank. Any of you?"

Tonks shook her head and Allie frowned.

"Tonks, didn't you say something about your father wanting you to cause a little chaos at Hogwarts?" Harry asked after several minutes' worth of thought.

Tonks nodded. "He was something of a prankster when he was here. Nothing big, not like the Weasley twins, but he pulled a few."

"Well how about that?" Harry asked. "Causers of Chaos?"

"Causers?" Parvati asked in dismay. "Is that really the best we can do?"

"Lords," Justin said. "The High Lords of Chaos." He swept his hand out, "and this is our foreboding Tower of Turmoil."

"Very nice," Tonks said, nodding admiringly. "Not sure about the 'foreboding' part, it has a sinister ring to it, but I like 'the High Lord of Chaos'."

"How about just the Tower of Turmoil," Padma suggested, "and we can all take names that alliterate like the Primary Punster."

"You can use that if you want," Allie said, "but I, for one, intend to avoid using my initials."

Padma glared at her briefly before turning back to the others. "I'll come up with a list we can pick off of if you can't come up with ones of your own. I'll make extras, we can tag some smaller pranks with other names to throw off estimates of our size."

"Next," Allie said. "I think there is one last thing we have to do before we start cleaning."

"And that is?" Cedric asked.

"We need to pick a First Lord of the High Lords of Chaos," Allie said. "My chief concern was that we'd have too many people running around, getting in each others' way and repeating pranks. We need someone to coordinate our pranks so we don't end up all doing nearly the same thing or at around the same time."

"She's right," Padma agreed. "We need someone who will push us to do better when we lag, and help us to achieve our fullest potential. Who will encourage us and lead us to wisdom. Who will provide us with—"

"We get the idea," Tonks said with a frown. "Heard something like that before, have you?"

Padma blushed. "There, um, might have been a speech by the Prefects our first night."

"I nominate Harry Potter for the position as the First Lord of the High Lords of Chaos," Cedric said. Everyone turned and looked at him.

"Ced?" Tonks asked. "Have you cracked? I mean, we haven't even really pulled any pranks of our own yet, just redirected one of the twins…not that I didn't fall off the bench laughing."

"No I'm serious," Cedric said. "Most of us are here because of him, right? Our connections to him, dorm-mates, teammates, friends… He should be our First Lord."

"My Lords and Ladies," Justin said, "We have a motion on the floor. Harry Potter has been nominated to be our First Lord. Will any second the motion?"

"Can I de-nominate myself?" Harry asked.

"No," Padma told him, then nodded to Justin. "Seconded."

"But I don't want to be First Lord," Harry said.

"Precisely why you're best for the job," Justin told him. "The power of any kind is much too important to be left in the hands of anyone who truly wants it.

"My Lords and Ladies, the motion has been seconded. Are there any other nominations for the post of First Lord?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly. "I nominate, uh, Elissa Blackthorn."

Allie made a disgusted face. "Pass, and don't think I won't forget that, Harry."

"No?" Justin asked in the same formal tones as he ignored Harry, though his wide grin spoiled the effect. "In that case I move that nominations be closed."

"Seconded." Allie said.

"So moved, nominations for the post of First Lord of the High Lords of Chaos have ended and no more will be accepted."

"My Lord," Tonks said with a wide grin. "I move that we vote on the matter of filling the post of First Lord."

"I move that we re-open nominations," Harry said. Once again Justin ignored him.

"My Lords and Ladies, we have a new movement on the floor, will any second it?"

"Seconded," Ernie said.

"So moved," Justin said. "We shall now vote on each candidate in turn. The candidates with the most members approving shall be our First Lord. My Lords and Ladies, please express your approval of a candidate by saying 'yea'. Please express your disapproval by flapping your arms and clucking like a chicken. Abstaining from this vote is not pleasing to the High Lords.

"My Lords and Ladies, your vote please. All in favor?"

"Yea," came seven hands.

"Opposed?"

"No, uh-uh, no-way," Harry said.

The others stared at him. He sighed and tucked his thumbs into his armpits and flapped his arms briefly. "Cluck, cluck."

"My Lord," Justin told Harry, "your chicken impersonation was most pathetic. Truly you have set a low bar for us to try and crawl under." He turned back to the rest. "My Lords and Ladies, the votes being seven for and one against, the motion has carried. Harry Potter has been elected by landslide vote to be the First Lord of the High Lords of Chaos."

"I don't want to be First Lord," he said a bit petulantly, then sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. Let's start cleaning. Cedric, you said you knew where supplies are?"

"Sure, why don't you are your dorm-mates come with me," he said.

"I'll show the girls some cleaning charms," Tonks said.

"Excuse me?" Padma asked.

Tonks shrugged. "We didn't learn about them 'til fourth year or so. If you can do them, the boys can learn when they get back."

"Fine," Padma said.

"But only if Allie doesn't get to try," her sister added. "She's a menace."

"Oh come one, it can't be that bad," Tonks said, rolling her eyes.

"Did you ever see someone set fire to stone before?" Parvati asked.

"No," Tonks said. "Seriously?"

Padma and Parvati traded looks, then both began to nod slowly in perfect time with the other in a decidedly creepy parody of Fred and George Weasley.

\|/\|/\|/

In his tower office Albus Dumbledore felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and looked up. Nothing was out of place. Fawkes slept with his head under one wing. The Sorting Hat sat on its shelf. The portraits of the various former Headmasters and Headmistresses continued to softly snore. The vast collection of magical instruments—and more than a few muggle curiosities that had been charmed into perpetual motion—continued to puff and spin and do all the other little things they were designed to do.

Everything was _alles in ordnung_, as a very old friend of his had once said.

All was in order.

The prickling sensation didn't fade.

The break-in at Gringotts was troubling, but only proved that he was correct in moving the stone. That Hagrid had managed to tell someone what he was doing was regrettable, but the Patils were fine people and everyone else who had over-heard was now in Hogwarts. The girl was some concern, but the Stone wasn't the kind of thing that would interest her. The Thorne's had more gold than she could hope to spend in a dozen life-times. Similarly the temporary life-extending properties of the Stone would prove slight temptation compared to the powers she would possess in a few short years…and those she already had access to. The Panacea the Stone offered would likely be its most tempting ability, but while it could cure any illness it could not remove something that one naturally possessed. Her grandmother might benefit from it, but the bad feelings between the Thorne Matriarch and her Heir were the stuff of legends.

Or they would be if someone, or some _ones_, hadn't gone to great lengths to keep those feelings concealed from the magical world.

That he had not yet managed to acquire the final piece of the defenses was somewhat troubling, but all should be in order by the new year. Even without it, the other defenses were nothing to laugh at. That music would make Fluffy sleep was the kind of incidental knowledge that one learned from long exposure with an animal and was almost impossible to learn without being told, and since the break-in a few nights previous the corridor had been heavily spelled to resist active magic inside of it.

That, of course, was only a temporary measure. By the end of the month the corridor would become a magical null-area. It was an idea he'd taken from his attempt to track Harry to the first place the Thorne girl had taken him. Once the null-zone was in effect it would be impossible to magically subdue Fluffy or to re-open the door with magic. The danger if a student were to enter the corridor would likewise be increased, but that could not be avoided.

As for the rest of the traps…

The properties of devil's snare were learned in a basic first-year herbology class, tested at the end of the year, and then something that the vast majority of wizards and witches went through their lives without contemplating ever again. It wasn't even on the O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, though he never understood why not. Only a few rare, especially complex potions required devil's snare parts, and none of the potions were of the sort brewed by people who would be interested in the Stone.

Filius' keys were charmed against summoning and would take a very skilled broom-rider to capture. Indeed, anyone who attempted to use normal magic would be attacked by the keys which would transfigure themselves into winged knives. Spells attempted on broomsticks would cause the brooms to flare out of control and beat their riders into unconsciousness against the walls and ceiling. Even should someone manage to get through those doors, the tiny snag of metal that had been charmed out of sight would get a blood sample of anyone who opened the doors. Should the Stone be stolen he would at least have an idea of who did it.

Like Filius' flying keys, Minerva's chessboard was much more dangerous than a casual inspection would reveal. A player making the wrong move would be lucky to only be hurt. Should they try to violate the rules and use magic both sides would quickly turn against the fool and the weapons all of the giant chessmen carried were quite functional.

It would take a skilled player to get across that chessboard, and unlike in regular wizard's chess, the pieces would not help or offer advice to the person controlling them. Given the quality of modern pieces such help was of dubious nature at best. But the oldest sets, passed down through the old magical families, could have won Waterloo for Napoleon, had he had a set.

And then there were Severus' potions. Those fortunate enough to survive their way past the challenges posed to wizardly skills would find themselves presented with a logic problem. At best logic was something that many wizards and witches struggled with, at worst it was a potentially dangerous distraction as far too many magical things could not be logically reasoned without at least one explosion.

There was a reason, after all, why the two most popular places for a wizard to have his laboratory was in the upper-most room of the most remote tower, or a dark sub-subbasement.

Thinking about it now he wondered if he shouldn't have let Severus go ahead and put poison in all of the ones except the potions to go forward and back. He hadn't at the time, hoping to spare a poor fool his life, but wasn't a fast-acting poison preferable to the Black Flames if they chose the wrong vial?

He set the thought aside and considered the last protection. Quirinus' troll. A strong foe, certainly, and Quirinus had chosen a particularly imposing specimen. Still, it was not the choice Albus was certain the young man would have made three years before. Even a year at the normally sedate Muggle Studies post so Charity could spend a year doing research and observations for her Master of Muggle Relations, had failed to calm the poor man.

But other than that…nothing. Nothing in the _Daly Prophet_ to arouse suspicion, nor any of the foreign papers he regularly read. Even the _Quibbler_ and _Telford Tattler_ were quiet.

The prickling sensation returned and Albus Dumbledore resisted the urge to rub his eyes and sigh. That prickling sensation meant Trouble, and if the world was quiet it meant that the Trouble was inside the very halls of Hogwarts.

The Weasley Twins were up-to-something…

Again.


	11. Chapter 11: The Tower of Turmoil

**Chapter 11: The Tower of Turmoil**

"Chaos often breeds life, while order breeds habit."  
Henry Adams, _The Education of Henry Adams_

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Zero-One-Thirty hours  
October 31st

Seven figures cloaked in dark robes gathered near an empty section of wall in an otherwise nondescript section of corridor that snaked through one of Hogwarts' many dungeons.

"Are you sure this is the place?" one asked.

"Yes," answered another.

A moment later a section of hallway opened and an eighth figure stuck its head out. "Ready?"

Seven nods responded and the eighth stepped out into the hall, leaving a foot in the door to keep it open.

"Let's get started then," came the second person who'd spoken.

Two figures produced wands and softly incanted spells, gesturing at each of the other six in turn, and then themselves. Two beakers, half-full of something glowing a gentle green were produced, followed by two steel flasks. The stoppers wedged into the mouths of the beakers were removed and passed to the figure in the door. Two of the figures poured the contents of the flasks into the beakers, which began to gout steam into the air as the figure quickly ducked through the doorway followed by the other seven.

The eighth figure placed one beaker by each of two passages leading away from the room they were in. The room itself was wide and long. The stone wall along one side had a number of fireplaces, opposite it was a bank of absolutely magnificent windows that curved up towards the ceiling. On the other side of those windows was the Black Lake.

"Are you sure those windows are going to hold?" one of the figures asked.

"They have for the past millennia, why do you think they would suddenly stop?" asked the one who had let them in as it moved to a table where more beakers were set up.

"Okay," said the one who had led them down to the hall. "This isn't going to be like the others. So let's do it just like we planned it, right?"

\|/\|/\|/

One Week Prior  
Tower of Turmoil

"I hereby call this planning session of the High Lords of Chaos to order," Harry said. "Tonks will start."

The room they were gathered in was small, but had been magically expanded by Tonks, an accomplishment that had probably surprised the pink-haired witch almost as much as it had impressed Harry and the rest of the first years. It seemed likely most of the other rooms were similarly miss-sized, but this was one they had known about for sure, and at Justin's request Tonks and Cedric had charmed the doors to resemble a London police box. It had tiered seating, a feature Harry had wanted after seeing how useful it was in the locker room, but a scale model of Hogwarts had been just too complex to manufacture in six weeks.

If they would ever be able to make one at all.

"Wotcher," Tonks said, tapping the front wall with her wand which caused glowing letters to appear. "I've gotten together with Harry and we've decided to call this Operation: Buttercup." She tapped the wall again and the graphic was replaced by a collection of colored uniforms, and a collection of items.

"Mostly it comes down to what we've already discussed. Harry got together with Padma, Allie, and me, and came up with a timetable and plan. This briefing is on how we're going to execute it. For simplicity's sake I've broken it down into five parts.

"Part one, the Introduction. Padma, you and Parvati are covering that one, right?"

"We almost have the wording down," Padma said. "Some of it still needs work, but we can record whenever you're ready."

"We still have some time on that so go ahead and keep working on it," Tonks told her.

"Part two, the specific pranks on Subjects Shrake and Manticore. Both will be discreetly administered potions that will trigger the planned effects when exposed to a specific magical trigger. That trigger will be embedded into the recording of the Introduction so the effects seem spontaneous."

Padma nodded in approval. The idea to do it that way had been hers after all, rather than require the unbelievably precise timing that a time-delayed potion would entail or the work needed to charm the requisite spells directly into the Introduction. This way combined the ease of delivery with the timing of the Introduction and she'd been quite satisfied that her research hadn't gone to waste, even if it had required the much more accomplished Tonks and Cedric to actually pull off the requisite spell-work.

"Part three. The gifts for Subjects Shrake, Manticore, Fwooper, and Streeler," Tonks continued. "All four will be set at the appropriate places on the tables and a displacement charm cast. The charm will have a contingency-removal tied to the requisite parts of the Introduction. Cedric, are the presents ready?"

"Yes," Cedric said. "Diricawl's is going to take a little more work, though."

"That's fine," Tonks assured him.

"What are we getting Manticore?" Allie asked. "It was still undecided last I heard."

Harry nodded. "You remember that mouse-thing you dropped in front of that cat-familiar that was following us in Diagaon Alley? We're giving McGonagall one of those, only the size of a medium dog."

Allie looked at him quizzically.

"You haven't run into it yet," Cedric said, "but in third year McGonagall briefly touches upon basic human transfiguration and talks about the Animagus transformation. It's a really complex bit of magic that allows a wizard or witch to transform into one animal without using a wand. McGonagall just happens to transform into a housecat. As Gryffindor's mascot is a lion…"

Allie snickered. "I get it, oh, that's funny, Cedric. A mouse sized for a lion… The thing will be bigger than she is."

"I know," Cedric said smugly.

"One suggestion," Ernie piped up. "I can find out what the McGonagall clan tartan is and we can have the mouse done up in that pattern fur."

"There's still some time, sounds good," Tonks said. She penned herself a note, then picked up her wand again and tapped the wall to bring up a generalized floor plan of Hogwarts. It wasn't very specific, Hogwarts, like Cedric had said back on the first day, rearranged itself too much for real maps but a generalized outline of specific areas was just fine. "The Prefect Patrols are supposed to be conducted more or less randomly. Considering the occasionally chaotic nature of Hogwarts' internal geography that is even what usually happens. However, Percy Weasley has made the, uh, unfortunate mistake of not just always following the same route as closely as possible, but doing so with enough regularity that we can set our watches by it.

"Cedric, you and me, with Ernie and Justin for lookouts and transport, will take and emplace the gifts. There is a window two hundred and eighteen seconds long starting at 23:07 for us to get from our common room into the Great Hall and have the doors secured."

Tonks looked at Allie.

"At 23:09 the Little Red-Haired Girl will leave the Great Hall," Allie said, rolling her eyes.

Privately Harry agreed that the seventh year was taking her chance to practice her 'future Auror' routine a little too far, but the rest seemed amused by it and the older girl's enthusiasm was infectious. He pulled himself back to the briefing as Allie continued.

"…goes upstairs, abort, there's someone in the hall. If she goes bouncing her ball down your corridor, you're clear."

The Little Red-Haired Girl was one of Hogwarts' many resident ghosts. She was also widely considered to be the youngest at the time of her death. So far as anyone knew she didn't do much besides giggle and bounce her ball.

"You talked with her?" Tonks asked. "I don't think anyone has ever done that?"

"I passed along a request," Allie said. "She just showed up."

"Thank her for us then, will you?" Tonks asked. She turned back to Cedric, "The four of us will have to get together to decide how we want to do things."

Cedric nodded slowly and jotted down a note on a scroll of parchment he had handy.

"Peeves," Allie said, looking over at their quasi-mascot and prophet, the Poltergeist of Pranks-yet-to-come. "Mr Filch and Mrs Norris roam at random, your chief job tonight and in the following ones is to keep them away from us."

Tonks indicated a general area on the map, "We also need you to distract Prefect Patrols in this area starting at 23:18 tonight and lasting until 23:24."

Peeves snapped to attention and saluted.

Harry knew that Cedric and Tonks were still both disturbed by the idea of the poltergeist working for them, but he'd been impressed with Allie's prank. Allie, in turn, had pointed out how it was better to have him working for them and somewhat controllable, or at least directable, than it was to risk him compromising their plans.

"Ced," Tonks said. "That's how long we'll have to complete the task."

"What about if the Prefect Patrols come from this direction and over here?" Cedric asked, using his wand to place glowing sparks over a passage and a section of corridors that seldom changed.

"Padma," Tonks said. "This corridor and staircase, here, is almost a direct line from Ravenclaw tower to the passage in question. At 23:15 you need to get locked out of your common room and set up _here_."

"I can conjure up some sparks _here, here, _and _here_," Padma said, using her wand to place glowing sparks on the map. "The first two probably won't do much, but it'll look like I was trying to get attention to anyone who happens by."

"Just be sure you can extinguish them," Tonks said. "At 23:25 you can go back to your common room if you've been undisturbed. Allie?"

"I'll have the other section of corridors, don't worry," Allie told her.

Tonks nodded. "Everyone know your parts?" She looked around. "Excellent."

"What about the Headmas—er, Subject Diricawl's gift?" asked Parvati.

"That one is the sticking point," Harry spoke up at last. "Tonks showed Allie and me where his office is, but it has an animated gargoyle guarding it, and is password-protected. According to Tonks beyond the gargoyle are a rotating staircase and a short hall. They could be…warded, I guess, so that he knows if anyone approaches the door, but the sticking point is the password. We don't have it, without it we can't get in."

"Can we set up the doorbell the same way we're doing the rest?" Cedric said. "I suppose we could try and find a charm so that it just has to be pressed against the door for it to set in place."

"We could, and in fact we're going to need exactly that charm," Allie said. "It was Justin who came up with the solution just this afternoon. "

"Oh?" Tonks asked.

Justin turned in his seat. "It's simple. One of us is going to have to be sent to the Headmaster's office."

"Can I say that I really don't like this plan?" Padma asked.

"Agreed," Cedric said quickly.

"You'll be fine," Allie said. "Besides, there is only one person here that it really can be."

"Oh really?" Tonks asked, crossing her arms. "Who?"

"Me," Allie said.

"How do you arrive at _that_ conclusion?" Tonks asked.

"It can't be you or Cedric," Allie said. "If either of you are caught and end up in detention our chances of pulling this off are effectively nil. If Harry did something big enough to warrant such a trip, such as hopping on a broom when he wasn't supposed to, it'd be unlikely that the Professors would do more than take a bunch of points. Professor Snape might do more, but he'd be more likely to use it to drive Hufflepuff into negative points and block his team practices—unlikely since I'm fairly certain he doesn't know about Harry's…appointment. The rest of you, no offense, but you haven't stood out as trouble makers. If you behave too atypically the Professors will wonder why. We don't have the time for you to figure out just what you need to do to get sent to the Headmaster's office without getting more than a warning."

"And you have a way to get sent there ready to go?" Harry asked.

"No," Allie said. "But I have something that with a little help from human nature will ensure that outcome. A warded diary. A _seriously_ warded diary. So far I've been careful to keep it locked away when I haven't been writing in it, and I _did_ warn all of my dorm-mates against trying to read it. It'll just be a factor of my leaving it unattended for long enough for one to notice. I'm betting it'll be Pansy."

"What kind of ward?" Tonks asked curiously.

/|\/|\/|\

Interlude: Allie  
October 29

Allie finished sketching out the spell-diagram, again, and set her quill aside before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. She had known when Harry had first extorted Dumbledore into letting her attend Hogwarts that it would be hard. Her year-mates were painfully younger than she was, and the channels—the magical equivalent of muscles—would have had years to atrophy without the intensive study of magic that Hogwarts offered. The magic she could already do, both from natural talent as well as learned, used the equivalent of completely different muscle groups.

Professor Snape had assured her that there was no reason that they would eventually become used to the magic load now thrust upon them, but in the meantime she had to put up with results in transfiguration and charms that were, at best, chaotic, and frequently didn't produce so much as some colored sparks. Worse still the channels _ached_. It was an always present, entirely unphysical ache that nothing could get rid of. The only thing worse than the ache were the two trips to the hospital wing she had already endured from trying to force the issue and had managed to pump up enough magical throughput so that they _burned_.

As bad as she had thought it would be, the reality was worse. Almost two months of work and she could get the matchstick to transfigure into a needle maybe one time in four. Charms were no better. This after years of learning to manipulate wards and runes with an ease that most witches and wizards studying for their O.W.L.s couldn't hope of achieving. It wasn't just frustrating, it was…maddening.

Fortunately—and it was very fortunate indeed, she reflected darkly—she had had plenty of practice in dealing with frustration and keeping herself calm. She took another deep breath, held it, and then slowly released it and looked up.

Padma was watching her from across the library table. Harry would have demanded what was wrong. Parvati would have been uncomfortable and probably settle for ignoring it. Allie was privately grateful to Padma, not that she'd ever say it. She fit too well into Slytherin to be that…open. But that didn't change the fact that she was grateful for Padma's open concern but not pressing the issue.

Having Harry as a friend made the difference, she decided. It wasn't something she had counted on or even really considered until he had used the word. Her first concern had been to get the idiot wizard out of the midst of mundanes, and the second had been to keep her new home, not three months old, secure. She had succeeded in the first and not the second, but it wasn't Harry's fault so she didn't blame him for it. But somewhere in that half-day they had become friends.

Even knowing the Patils for years by that point hadn't made the three of them friends. She had been friendly with them, had felt safe enough to relax slightly in the Patil household, but her primary relationship with the family had been Chirag. Mentor, business associate, holder of a life-debt, and all the rest.

"Allie?"

Allie looked up at Padma.

Padma hesitated, then asked, "are you okay?"

"Just thinking," Allie admitted.

"Anything in particular?"

"Not really," she said. "So let me see if I have this correct," she said, gesturing to the parchment she had just finished writing on. "If I start with my wand loosely held, tip angled up, to the left, and outwards and then bring it around in a quarter circle to the right before cutting in—"

She paused and looked up as the doors to the library opened.

Professors Snape and McGonagall strode into the library, the former's face a blank mask while the Deputy Headmistress' was set with righteous fury.

"Show time," Allie whispered softly as they approached where she was sitting.

"Ms. Blackthorn," Professor Snape said in a soft, silky voice. "You will come with us to the Headmaster's office."

"May I ask what this is about?" Allie asked, slowly standing.

"You may not," he told her.

"I see," she said softly.

"You will surrender your wand," Professor McGonagall said.

Allie looked at her. Such a request was expected if Dumbledore decided to expel her after all, though she doubted it would come to that. That the Professors might deprive her of her wand—as useless with the thing as she was—before then had never occurred to her. The phrasing hadn't been a request, but the kind of demand a member of the Law Enforcement Patrol might make.

The rasp of a quickly drawn breath told her that Padma had heard the demand, recognized it for what it was, and drawn the same conclusion.

"I see," Allie said again. She slowly reached into her sleeve and drew out the device before flipping it and presented it grip-first to the suddenly grim-faced Snape, ignoring McGonagall's expectant outstretched hand.

McGonagall's face froze. "I don't know what you think—"

"If we must do this, then let it not be here," Professor Snape said swiftly.

Allie felt a moment of gratitude, but he wouldn't have accepted it even if she had been willing to show it so instead she inclined her head slightly. It was a polite nothing gesture that could have meant anything from respect to a sort of acknowledgement, but Professor Snape's eyes widened slightly before he returned it.

"Allie—" Padma said, but Allie cut her off.

"I'm sure everything will work itself out, Padma," she said.

Padma nodded slowly, and then the three left the library with Professor Snape leading, and McGonagall trailing behind.

They walked through the halls without speaking until McGonagall snapped the password at the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. Professor Snape quickly strode to the spiral staircase and Professor McGonagall indicated that Allie should precede her up. Once they were on the spiral staircase Allie dipped her left hand into a pocket and came up with the doorbell in her palm. A practiced finger flick poked it up into the sleeve of her robes.

Professor Snape knocked at the door, and opened it at the Headmaster's order and went in. Allie let her left hand slap softly against the wall as she went in, a slight jerk deposited the doorbell into her palm long enough for the practiced brush to plant the device and she hoped that the disguise charms worked fast enough to hide it from McGonagall.

Apparently they did because the Transfiguration Professor didn't say anything and Allie allowed herself to look around the office. It was…impressive. There were walls lined with bookcases that were filled with books that made her fingers itch. Several spindly tables held a vast assortment of magical instruments, of which she recognized a half-dozen and guessed several more were decorative more than functional, but it still left a score and more with no purpose she could identify. The walls above the bookcases were filled with portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses, though all appeared to be sleeping. A soft cry made her turn to the right and suddenly freeze.

Sitting on top of a perch was a scarlet and gold-plumed bird. A phoenix.

"You know Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, I believe," Dumbledore said from where he stood before a tidy little fireplace. "I think you should meet Fawkes."

Allie jerked a nod towards the bird. Fawkes, in turn, regarded her levelly for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere.

"I am in the habit of granting a second chance to those that desire it," Dumbledore said softly, "So perhaps we should begin with you explaining yourself."

There were a lot of flippant remarks that Allie really wanted to say, starting with asking when he had given her a first chance. Instead she simply shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure what the point would be, Headmaster, since you have already decided to expel me."

Dumbledore paused and looked at her. "Have I?" he asked impassively.

"Why else would the Deputy Headmistress demand that I surrender my wand before the entire school. Well, what there was of it in the library," she shrugged. "It amounts to much the same thing."

Dumbledore looked past her. "Minerva?" he asked.

Next to her Professor McGonagall shifted unhappily. "Under the circumstances I thought it best."

Dumbledore didn't say anything as Professor Snape returned her wand to her with the same precision that she had entrusted it to him. Professor McGonagall didn't say anything during the process, but Allie could read the humiliation-stoked anger in her expression.

"Thank you, Professor," she told Professor Snape who inclined his head the same way they both had in the library. Allie turned back to Dumbledore, "As for what you want me to explain, no one has yet told me what the problem is."

"You recall a certain conversation we had at the beginning of the year," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, about my Talent," Allie said. "My bed is warded, as you well know. Whoever you got to do the job was competent enough, though I note that you didn't tell him exactly what I was—thank you for that, by the way. I added a few of my own, and Professor Snape has checked it at least three times that I am aware of and probably thrice as many times that I am not."

"Four times as many," Snape said.

Allie flipped up her right sleeve to show a simple band of silver. "I also have my own ways of monitoring myself. Nothing has happened."

"You brought a dark artifact into my school," Dumbledore said, the air in the office suddenly thick with anger-fueled magic. "Now a student of mine is blind. Her eyes burned from their sockets." He lifted a leather-bound book closed with two leather latches and tiny gold locks and tossed it onto the floor where it cracked like a thunderclap in the office.

Allie crossed to it and picked it up. "This is my magic journal, my workbook. Grimoire, if you prefer the older term. I told Professor Snape this morning that it went missing while I was at breakfast."

"You fail to understand the gravity of the situation," Professor McGonagall said.

"I understand perfectly well," Allie said shortly. "It isn't just any book. It's a _grimoire_ in the oldest sense, Professor McGonagall. It holds not just my secrets but pieces of my magic. It would have been the height of irresponsibility, not to mention dangerous for me as well as anyone foolish enough to use it, to not take precautions and place protections in it to ensure that it is able to securely contain what it holds; especially since I am unable to completely physically secure it, as its theft demonstrates.

"I admit that many of the defenses are not of my design or crafting, I don't have the skill or knowledge to adequately ward the book for what I was going to put in it, but all of the wards and protections are crafted with my power.

"All of my property is warded. I explained this our first night, along with warnings to leave my things alone. If someone wants to ignore my advice that isn't my fault," she paused. "Unless it wasn't someone warned. I mean, you haven't told me who it is. I assumed it was someone I warned, but I guess it could be a girl from a different year. As far as I know there are no wards to keep people out of dorm rooms other than their own, so one of the upper year Slytherin girls could have gotten to it."

"It was Pansy Parkinson," Professor Snape said.

"No, I warned her," Allie admitted. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I even put a warning in. It's tied to the wards. It's impossible to miss."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Allie touched the two clasps and they parted. The leather straps that had been holding the book closed now undone, she set it on a small table. "No matter what page you open it to, you'll always open to one particular page. If you close the book, you'll still open to that page. It's a warning and a ward. You can't pass it without reading it."

Professor Snape swiftly crossed to the book and flipped it open. Allie could see his lips move ever so slightly as his eyes raced back and forth. He stopped suddenly and stared up at her before wordlessly passing the book to Dumbledore.

The Headmaster considered him for a moment before taking the book and perusing the page. He closed the book and opened it again, and then repeated this twice more, opening to a different page each time. "This is very similar to what the goblins use at Gringotts," he said.

Allie nodded.

"It gives the book power over the reader," he continued.

"It gives the wards power over a person reading it without my permission," Allie corrected.

"And those wards are capable of burning peoples' eyes."

"Knowledge is dangerous," Allie said flatly. "A little knowledge can be even more dangerous than complete knowledge. But as…drastic as the wards are, the effects are not irreversible. She just has to forget what she read. A memory charm, so very easily broken, will not suffice. It must be true forgetfulness. I would ask that you encourage her not to speak of what she read. Depending on what secrets of mine she stole the effects could be far worse, and far more permanent.

"Oh," she said, remembering something else. "It must be _all_ the knowledge she took. If she told anyone what she read, they must forget as well. Any written or recorded copies must be destroyed."

"Can you determine what all she read?" Dumbledore asked.

Allie shrugged and accepted the book back when he levitated it to her. She flipped through it for a moment, then shrugged again. "She didn't steal anything dangerous, but she did steal—"

"Ms. Parkinson did not steal from you," Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Yes, Professor, she did," Allie said coolly. "Not anything overtly dangerous, perhaps, but she did illicitly acquire several parts of me, my power, my secrets. If she wants to go into debt to me for the value of the stolen knowledge and swears a binding blood-oath to never reveal those secrets she stole, I can bypass the forgetfulness-clause on the ward. I can't, and won't, for anything less."

Dumbledore didn't say anything, just stroked his beard for a minute. "Your opinions, Minerva, Severus?"

"She brought a dark artifact into the school," McGonagall said coolly. "You described it as such yourself, Albus. That artifact has caused another student to lose their eyesight, and she refuses to provide aid that could restore the student's sight."

"That is hardly what Ms. Blackthorn said," Professor Snape said. "I was there, Professor Dumbledore, when she warned her dorm-mates, to check that the wards on her bed were sufficient and satisfactory. If Ms. Parkinson was so idiotic as to ignore my warnings as well as Ms. Blackthorn's, and the warning inside the book as well, then she has only herself to blame for her circumstances."

"A harsh thing to say about the poor girl in the hospital wing who doesn't have any eyes because someone left a cursed book lying about," McGonagall said.

"Minerva, Severus, please," Dumbledore said.

Both stopped and looked at him.

"You will not be expelled, Ms. Blackthorn," Dumbledore said, "This time." He held Allie's gaze until she nodded grudgingly. "And one hundred points will be assessed from Slytherin House for recklessly endangering another student."

"I will see to dismantling the wards on my journal and personal possessions immediately," Allie said. "Professor Snape, if you would remove the ones on my bed? I wouldn't want them to pose a danger to any of my dorm-mates after all."

She bowed slightly, then turned for the door.

"Stop," Dumbledore ordered.

"Professor?" Allie asked.

Dumbledore gave her a searching look. "You may keep the wards for now, but the loss of points stands."

"Telling me that I may keep them isn't the same as saying that I must keep them," Allie said coolly. "But if it makes you feel better to blame me for your other student's carelessness and inability to follow simple directions, by all means, go ahead."

"I really must protest," Severus said once the door of the office had closed behind his student. "Ms. Blackthorn was impertinent, Headmaster, but she was not wrong. The taking of points was unjust. The only person at fault here is Ms. Parkinson."

"Who lost her sight!" McGonagall snapped.

"Do you not warn your students of the dangers of what you teach them?" Snape asked the Transfiguration Mistress. "I know that I certainly do. Perhaps now they will all be more inclined to actually listen and pay attention to those warnings." He shook his head in disgust, "once again you penalize a Slytherin for a situation that is not of her making."

"This isn't the same situation as the one with you and Black," McGonagall said.

"No," Snape agreed, "it is not. Nobody tricked Ms. Parkinson into reading the book. She did it entirely on her own. Nor, for that matter, was her life in danger…or anyone else's."

"What James Potter did was—"

"I am not talking about _Potter_," Snape spat. He gave his former teacher a very cold smile, "You _do_ remember what the Ministry policy is for any werewolf that bites a human, do you not, Minerva? I do wonder, on occasion, what message you gave to Lupin when you let the…man who nearly got him executed off with no punishment."

He smirked as for once in the very few times he could recall, both Dumbledore and McGonagall were left speechless. Then he turned and left the office, the door slamming shut behind him.

/|\/|\/|\

The Tower of Turmoil

"What kind of ward?" Tonks asked curiously.

"The kind that will burn out the eyeballs of everyone who reads it and doesn't take its one warning seriously," Allie said. "Debilitating, class-disrupting, correcting the problem is straightforward but painful. I have a hard time believing that I wouldn't be sent to the Headmaster's office."

"Something like that could get you expelled," Cedric said.

"I warned them that my property was warded," Allie said. "I even have witnesses, if they aren't too cowardly to back out. Besides which, I have other reasons for believing that I won't be expelled."

"Like what?" Ernie asked.

"You're not blackmailing Dumbledore are you?" Justin asked. When Allie didn't respond he breathed, "Good Lord, you are."

"No," she said. "I am not blackmailing him and to the best of my knowledge no one else is either, but it is hardly my fault if he thinks he is being blackmailed…or extorted for that matter."

She gestured at the doorbell, and Harry was grateful for the change of subject. He really rather that people didn't know about his demand that Dumbledore allow Allie to attend Hogwarts, and in a way it kind of hurt that now it was going to be used against the ancient wizard.

"The hard part will be either me learning how to cast a displacement charm in time, or incorporating one into the present so that I just have to slap the thing on the wall next to the door."

Cedric nodded slowly. "We were going to use something similar to put it in anyway, so enchanting the thing to meld into the door shouldn't be a problem. The displacement charm might be. It's bound to be unstable…we might be able to give you a day, two at the most."

"That…might be sufficient time. Tonks?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice," the older girl said. "Ced, if you can, do a test article immediately so we have a better idea of timing. But we might just have to go with it. We'll lose some effect if it isn't timed as neatly, though we have some leeway because he'll be at the feast."

"Um…I might need a bit of help with the charm, but what if I layer a simple glamour over it? I mean, he doesn't use fancy bricks or something, does he? The walls outside his office are just like those of the rest of the school?"

Tonks nodded. "Yep, and I think that might work too. Good idea, Ced." She turned back to her briefing. "This brings us to part five of Operation Butterfly, the fourth part being the deployment of Dumbledore's present. We thought about trying to co-opt the house-elfs, but Ernie reports that they're too firmly entrenched in the Weasley camp at this point in time. Instead he suggested we go back to what we did with the table and try doing the spell elsewhere but have it anchored to the benches at the house tables.

"The problem with doing it that way is transference, making the charm 'stick' to the robes after being on the benches. We'd have to charm each bench for an exact number of people. If too many people sat at the bench the charm would likely fall off. If not enough sat at it the concentrated charms could, at least in theory, inflict damage on the robes. We can, and are, going to use that method for the chairs at the High Table since they only seat one a piece, but we can't use it for the benches."

"So how are we going to do it?" Justin asked.

"With these," Padma said, passing him a piece of metal.

"That's the Hogwarts crest," Ernie said, leaning over his shoulder. "Like what we had on our robes before being Sorted."

"That's exactly what it is," Padma said. "Everyone has one. Or rather, everyone has a House badge which amounts to the exact same thing. We come up with a set of custom-runes to tag the badges with, and then run the spell through the runes just like the switching spells were run through the runes on the tables in the Great Hall. For now we'll only use four runes, one per house."

"We might, eventually, be able to use it to track peoples' movements," Tonks said. "Each badge would need a unique rune if we wanted more than a generalized 'someone from Ravenclaw is approaching', but right now the sticking point for that idea is the model of Hogwarts."

"That's going to take at least a year or two of work," Cedric said. "Unfortunately. What about that Prefect-detector, Allie?"

"Prefect-detector?" Harry asked. Allie had told him what she was trying to do and had informed him of the results, but to the best of his knowledge she hadn't told the others.

"I spent some time examining my house badge and, uh, borrowed a Prefect badge for a couple of days," Allie said, "Long enough for Tonks to make a couple of copies for me to experiment with. To the best of my ability to detect, the house badges aren't charmed or enchanted.

"Instead I think they act as mobile nodes for at least some of Hogwarts' wards. I mean, it looks like they are tied directly into the wards themselves. What I think is they are sort of a 'someone is here' alert to the wards. That way in case of a large fire or something the wards can alert the Headmaster if there is someone in the area, but not who…I don't think. The Prefect Badges are a bit more complex, some of it looks like it is trying to provide for a limited communication capability, but I think that is for dealing with the point-system.

"It was my hope that the Prefect badges put out some kind of magical signature that I could track. Unfortunately the ambient magic signature is too high for the normal detection magic I use."

"So you can't do it?" Harry asked.

Allie nodded. "Not at this time. The easiest way to do it would be to tie into Hogwarts' wards since that's what normally monitors the badges. For obvious reasons, that isn't practical."

"What did you do with the copies?" Tonks asked.

"I destroyed most of them, though I still have one sample of each locked up in a magic-free vault in my lab," she said, referring to the room she'd selected to use as a place to experiment in.

"Were you detected?" Cedric asked.

"Most of it was simple observation," Allie said with a shake of her head. "Some of the work in order to make those observations was fairly involved, but that was it. And I did all my work inside a double-laid circle, one to contain any accidents and the other to keep out any contaminating magic. The most noticeable thing was the destruction of the badges, but I did that in a remote dungeon with lodestones for magic-sinks, and after I cleaned up the circles I tossed iron filings and rock salt on the floor to disrupt magic that was used to investigate."

"What about the Prefects bath?" Tonks asked. "I had to get Janice to open it up for me. Do you know if it detects the badge, or if it is passworded?"

"I didn't see anything that looked like some kind of magic key," Allie said. "Since the Common Rooms don't seem to track the house badges I'd guess that it's the same case where the Prefect Bath and Lounge are concerned. However, since Prefects do get a pass on the exclusion wards that keep wizards from going into the witches' dorms I'm guess that _that_ is a function of the badge. It's a feature that I've been unable to test, and that I haven't been able to identify any specific rune-sequences or charms that would allow it."

"What about the Restricted Section?" Padma asked.

Parvati gave her sister a look. "You aren't trying to channel my room-mate, are you?"

"Brocklehurst bet that Granger would be the first person in our year to get inside," Padma said shortly.

"The Restricted Section isn't really warded," Tonks said. "Too many upper years need it. And not just for Defense Against the Dark Arts either. A lot of the section is filled with advanced charms and potions that are incredibly difficult or very dangerous, or both. There's a gate, but the main thing keeping people out is Madam Pince. The _really_ dark stuff is kept in the Vault, and unlike the Restricted Section, that one is warded."

"Thank you," Padma said. She turned back to Allie.

"Hey," Ernie said. "Allie, you said that the Prefect Badges have some way of communicating house points, right?"

Allie nodded slowly.

"Prefects can hand out points," Tonks said, "what's your point?"

"Can we manipulate the house points?"

"Without getting caught?" Allie asked. "I seriously doubt it. And there's no way at all that it won't be noticed. I'm almost certain the points are logged somewhere including entries for who awarded the points, where, when, and to who for what. What happens when they compare the official log?"

"Still," Justin said. "It might be something we can do at the end of the school year, after the leaving feast I mean."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, they give the house cup at the feast, right? So then the points go back to zero the next morning before we leave." He looked at Tonks and Cedric who both shrugged in reply.

"Can't say that I've ever noticed," Cedric said.

"So they wouldn't count," Harry said. "But what would we do with them?"

"Some sort of code or numeric riddle, maybe?" Padma suggested.

"It's an idea, I suppose," Harry allowed. "But to get back to—"

"Actually, Harry, there is one thing I discovered that I think we can use," Allie said.

The room fell silent.

"Not how to give Malfoy detentions, I assume?" Parvati asked.

"Actually…" Allie looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head. "I discovered how to bypass the exclusion locks on all the house team locker rooms."

"What?" Cedric asked.

"Tonks told me that Prefects have access to all of the locker rooms," Allie said.

"For emergencies," Tonks said.

Allie nodded. "But they have access, and the locker rooms _don't_ require passwords and unlike the common rooms they are exclusive. They normally keep people from other houses out, or at least the exterior doors won't open. Even for people that are on other teams."

Harry remembered staring at his best friend with a sickly sort of horrified silence when she had first revealed to him the results of her experiments. Considering the sound, or rather the lack thereof, coming from the others in the room they felt much the same way now that he had then.

"You aren't serious," Cedric said slowly.

"There are limitations," Allie said. "I wouldn't want to take the copied Prefect badge out of containment, but since team captains aren't tied into giving/taking points we only have to worry about the minor warding on the locker rooms that determine who was access. I'm pretty confident that I can bypass those."

Cedric whistled softly. "I know you said you were good with wards and runes, but that's…"

"Unbelievable," Tonks said flatly.

Allie shrugged. "I may be beans at transfiguration and charms, but I've been studying warding and runes and ritual magic, for longer than you've been in Hogwarts, Tonks. I am very good at it."

"But we can't use any of it?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"At this time, no," Allie said. "It's too risky taking the Prefect badge-copy out of the lab. Since I don't want to try getting past anything on the internal witch/wizard door that you told me about, Harry, I may have to make two sets of passes for each locker room if there is an inner boundary. Assuming Tonks can help me, I don't run into any unforeseen problems, and I am able to acquire some special materials, I should have the passes set up by the middle of November."

"Since the students are all carrying something, does that mean the Professors do as well?"

Everyone in the room turned.

"What do you mean, Padma?" Harry asked.

"What I mean is, do the Professors have to carry something like the Prefects do in order to give and take points?"

Harry looked at Tonks and Cedric who shrugged in reply, then turned to Allie.

"I don't know. If _I_ was the one who set the thing up, I'd use a ritual, maybe even blood-oaths," Allie said. "Mostly wards as old and powerful as these are in family hands and are passed through lineage, blood-lines. There'd have to be something that substitutes for that, and allows people to be added and removed with relatively little trouble. I suppose some kind of anchor, probably crystal-based, would make sense.

"If that's the case it might be possible to create sympathetic crystals that are keyed to their presence. Unless we bring in someone with a lot of background knowledge on crystal-based magic that's at least a year or two's worth of research away from us—plus fabrication time, and I'm not prepared to even guess on how long that would take."

"Well set that one aside for now," Harry said. "Allie has kept me informed about this in my role as First Lord. Now I want a vote from my...my—" he turned to Justin, "what was that word again? The polite one that meant 'minion'?"

"Retainers," Justin said with a grin.

"—right, my retainers. Do we pursue locker-room access or not?"

"It does give us Prefect access that we don't have," Parvati noted.

"And access to all the locker rooms," Cedric added. "Pranking a Quidditch team isn't something the Weasleys have pulled off yet."

Parvati frowned suddenly at him. "That sounds like an opening to a pranking war. I really don't want to have to share a house with the Twins if they decide someone is challenging them."

The others traded looks. "Look, even if we build the things we don't have to use them, right?" Padma asked. "Then I say go ahead."

Justin and Ernie both nodded in agreement with that idea. But Parvati still shook her head.

"So Cedric, Padma, Justin, and Ernie are all for it," Harry said. "Tonks, you and Parvati are against?"

"I guess I just can't think of any funny pranks to pull on a Quidditch team," Tonks said. "And that's really all that the pseudo-badges Allie's talking about are going to give us the opportunity for. I can't think of anything funny to do with Professor-level access either, for that matter."

Harry turned to Allie who shrugged. "I'm interested in the challenge, Harry."

"Okay then, I guess I'll think about it," Harry said. "Tonks, would you help Allie if she asks?"

"I suppose that's what I agreed to do when I joined this…" the seventh year waved her hand at the room they were in and the tower beyond it.

"So," Harry said, realizing that the change in conversation had damped everyone's spirits and gotten them far off track. "Operation Buttercup. Part Five."

"Sorry about that," Tonks said. She tapped the wall once more and maps began to spread across it. Detailed maps. Maps too detailed for most of Hogwarts, but for one of the places that never changed…

"These are the dorms," Tonks said unnecessarily. "What few people realize, or even think about, is that they only have one house badge for three sets of robes. When a house-elf takes the robe for cleaning it puts the badge in the top drawer of that person's bedside cupboard. When a person pulls a robe on, the badge fixes itself to that robe in the correct position.

"Over the last two weeks Allie has been helping us to prepare maps of the dormitories of our houses. Using the sleeping gas potion that we discovered while starting to go through the contents of the library on the top floor, we will gas an entire common room and inscribe a rune on all of the house badges."

"How do we keep from being affected by the gas?" Padma asked.

"Bubblehead charms," Tonks said as Allie sat again. "They're normally used to breathe underwater, or to filter out noxious fumes. I'll be teaching Cedric the charm and we can spell you."

"What about the runes? Won't they be noticeable?" this from Justin.

Harry shook his head. "I had the same worry. We'll be using our wands to inscribe the rune magically. It'll disappear after a moment or two."

"Unless someone starts poking at it the rune is effectively undetectable," Allie said. "And unless they have a badge from another house to compare it to, they'll have no way of knowing it isn't supposed to be there."

"And by this time the newness of the badge should have worn off," Tonks concluded. "After the first couple of months everyone really just takes the badges for granted. I can't think of seeing anyone ever really examining them after the first month or so of the first year."

"What about the Prefect Patrols?" Cedric asked. "They're still running an all-night patrol schedule. That normally doesn't end until after Halloween."

"True," Tonks said. "But the patrols shift on a rotating basis so that the Prefects get enough sleep. There are a couple of hours each night when everyone in a single house is, or at least is supposed to be, asleep. Allie was able to get that schedule."

Cedric turned and looked at the Slytherin. He wasn't the only one. "How did you—no," the Hufflepuff said, holding up a hand. "I've decided that I don't want to know."

"The ghosts," Tonks said.

Allie stilled. "Excuse me?"

Tonks was wearing a satisfied smirk on her face. "I figured it out. The Weasleys have the house-elfs which people never notice, so you've gotten the ghosts to help you because everyone takes them for granted. The Bloody Baron and the Little Red-Haired Girl to scout for us. That Piper who keeps waking people up so they go towards him to shut him up instead of finding us. That's how you got your hands on the patrol schedule, isn't it? You've gotten the ghosts to help you."

"They are old," Allie said slowly, "and they do not have much to do. They are bored. I made an offer and they accepted. It is as simple as that."

"I'm not complaining," Tonks said. "I thought it was really clever, actually. Do you get Binns to curve your grades?"

"Binns doesn't even realize he's dead," Cedric joked. "Why the need for the detailed maps?"

"Because some students have taken to warding their things," Allie said. "Hufflepuff isn't a problem, no offense."

"None taken," Tonks said.

"Gryffindor, much the same on the girls' side, the boys' side is a different story."

"The Weasley twins," Parvati said.

"Nearly-Headless Nick informed me that there is something of a gentleman's agreement to not prank the dorms, and it even holds true for the younger years. In the case of the upper years it is more of a case of if and when on one side and healthy paranoia on the other."

Allie gestured with her wand to Ravenclaw Tower. "The 'claws have warding on both sides, but it isn't consistent. Some students have wards, others do not. Most of the ones they do have look like studies in archaic and complex ward-structures rather than practical systems of defensive magic. Most will be even easier to bypass than those in Gryffindor, though there are one or two that I'll want to crack a few books for."

"And Slytherin?" Ernie asked.

"Slytherin is a den of snakes," Allie said dryly.

"A better question is can you defeat them?" Justin asked.

"Yes," Allie said. "Though breaking them will inform everyone that someone was doing something. We want to temporarily bypass them and that is always more complicated, so I won't be around all that often over the next week as I come up with bypasses."

"Does anyone see any problems with this plan?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Justin said as he traded looks with Ernie. "It all just seems very complicated, part 5 in particular. Isn't there a simpler way we could do this? I mean…quite honestly, I'm not even sure what the point of all this is besides a good way to get caught."

"Actually this is pretty simple," Tonks said. "Or at least straightforward. It's a basic principal of magic that a part of something can influence the whole."

"But you aren't suggesting that at all," Justin said.

"Yes we are," Allie said. "The principal is usually applied to singular entities, a hair to a person for example. We're simply applying the principal to a collective whole."

"We considered a Protean charm," Tonks added, "but it's a N.E.W.T.-standard charm and I'm the only ones capable of pulling it off. It'd take us too long to enspell each badge that way, and this is a lot less noticable. This way takes less time for us to do, and since we're only putting a magic-inscribed rune on each badge the only thing for people to discover is the rune itself. A simple tracing spell would quickly reveal that each other badge in the house had the same rune on it and that's it."

"And if this doesn't work?" Cedric asked.

Tonks looked nervously around the room and Padma looked very unhappy.

"Plan B resorts to potions," Allie admitted. "Tonks has been learning about suspending a charm inside a potion. We think we can modify the recipe so that the effects are triggered by a time delay starting from when the potion is cooled below a certain temperature. If we're going to have any chance of pulling it off we need the Introduction done and timed so that we can determine the interval. The Introduction will have to be played based off of the timing of the potions. We aren't going to be able to wait until the pause between meal courses like we would in the primary plan because we can't guarantee when that pause will come.

"Timing the potions is going to be very difficult, but with Tonks and I think we can brew them if we have some help. However, it is in my opinion that delivering the potions, without alerting the Weasley twins, is going to be practically impossible."

"Would it matter when the potions were drunk?" Harry asked.

Tonks shook her head. "No. As Allie said it'd be timed based off a temperature reading of the cooling potion. They could be drunk right away, or four seconds before the charm activated."

"Let's go with both then," Harry said. "Any house we can't take care of with runes we dose with potions."

Tonks grimaced. "I can see I'm not getting any sleep or schoolwork done this week. Okay. We'll get started as soon as the Introduction is finished." She turned to the ninth being in the room. "Peeves, you're our Poltergeist of Pranks-yet-to-come. Are you ready?"

"Peevesie is," Peeves said with a wide grin.

"Just remember our supply stocks are limited," Tonks said warningly.

He jumped to attention in mid-air, saluted, and then disappeared with a last raspberry.

"Right, then," Harry said. "I'll see you all tonight."

"You know, Harry," Allie said as the others began to file out of the room, "You're getting awfully good at this being in charge, thing."

"Well it's not like you gave me a lot of choice," Harry grimaced.

"Still, you could have held back, avoided it, but you didn't," Allie said. "You're doing good, Harry, keep it up."

Harry watched her go, but he couldn't help feeling that for the first time since he'd met her, Allie was dead wrong.

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Zero-one-thirty-seven  
October 31st

Tonks, her normally bright hair a dark green, led Padma and Parvati into the female dorms armed with a map. Each dorm had a beaker, glowing a soft blue and sending up cloud-shaped puffs of orange smoke every three seconds, set just inside the room far enough from the door that opening it wouldn't spill the potion. She shut the door of the first-year dorms behind the twins, then went over to the first bed. The map was annotated to show what wards needed to by bypassed to open the standing wardrobes where robes hung, or bedside cupboards where the house-elfs placed the badges from robes they had taken to wash.

In the boy dorms Cedric did much the same thing with Justin and Ernie, though in his case he usually had to resort to using a number of magical devices that Allie and Tonks had created. Allie and Harry instead moved immediately to the seventh year boys and got to work.

"Are we going to have enough time?" Harry asked as she finally spelled open the drawer of the second person in the room. In Hufflepuff they had split into four groups of two, and it had taken little more than five minutes to inscribe the runes in any given dorm. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had both taken longer, of course, but not much.

"I don't know," Allie said and Harry nodded silently as he inscribed the rune.

He'd known going in that the Slytherin students had the most complex wards of all the students. But thanks to Allie they had also had the most complete description of the wards being used, which removed some of the uncertainty they had faced in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The rune finished on the badge he replaced it in the drawer and slid it shut. There was a soft _pop_ as the wards slid back into place.

"You know that Parvati thought you were going to be expelled?" Harry asked.

"She told me," Allie said. "In the end, Dumbledore decided it was probably a good thing I had my diary warded, even if he wasn't particularly pleased about what those wards did."

"Because otherwise they could read about you being like the Pied Piper?" Harry asked.

Allie gave him a startled look.

"Padma came up with the idea," Harry said. "That you have some sort of instinctive compulsion magic like the Pied Piper."

"It's a good one," she replied after awhile. "Of course, in my case it doesn't involve any instruments."

"So what happened?" Harry asked, moving around a bed to inscribe another rune.

"You remember that ward in Gringotts?" Allie asked.

"The poem? Yes," Harry said.

"Well I have something similar in my diary. No matter what page you open to it's the first thing you see and there's a minor compulsion on it so that the reader does read it," Allie said. "It gives you one warning, and then if you go on reading it without my express permission it burns out your eyes. It wasn't designed to be permanent, but it is painful."

A silvery glow appeared on one wall just before the Bloody Baron glided through.

"The Head of Slytherin approaches," he told Allie in a soft, ominous voice that was nothing like the rusty croak Harry imagined he would use.

Allie spat a rude word. "Warn Cedric!" she snapped at him. "Then come down and grab the potions. "No wait, I'll take them and warn Tonks." She turned and fled from the room.

Harry followed after, almost lost his footing, and managed to recover only to slam into Cedric coming out of the fourth-year dorms.

"Snape's coming, Allie is going to distract him," he told the older boy.

"There's only one way out of here," Cedric said, his eyes wide.

"I don't think there's time for that," Harry said.

"Hide then, first-year dorms," Cedric said. "Ernie, Justin, go, we can hide in the wardrobes."

Harry winced. Each of the wardrobes were really thin on the outside, barely deep enough to hang one set of robes face-on, but the inside was much deeper. Even so they weren't terribly big and while he and the other first years could hide in them he wasn't sure if Cedric could. He started to follow Cedric and the others into the room, but hesitated and then crept back down the hall until he was just out of sight of the common room.

A door opened somewhere and he hoped that Allie had gotten into place to do whatever it was she was planning.

"Ms. Blackthorn," Snape's voice hissed.

"Professor Snape," Allie replied levelly. "So, where are the tracking charms?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Tracking charms, that let you know when we're out of bed," Allie said. "They aren't on our robes, and I checked my bed and dorm room pretty thoroughly."

"Those charms," Snape said neutrally, as though they were something barely worth his notice. "There is only a minor one that informs me when the common room is occupied long after everyone should be in bed. Your housemates would not tolerate someone spying on all of their movements."

"Not if they didn't know about it," Allie said.

Harry couldn't see how Snape responded to that, and the Professor didn't say anything.

"You have been up many of the past nights?"

"I've had trouble sleeping," Allie said.

"You should have come to see me," Snape told her. "I could easily brew a potion to help you."

"Nightmares," Allie amplified. "Potions might help once in a while, but there isn't anything I can take on a consistent basis without all sorts of unpleasant effects."

"Perhaps talking to someone would help," Snape said. "I am sure the…alienation you must feel in my House is not helping. Perhaps if you were to cultivate friends in Slytherin instead of always eating with the 'puffs or working with that insufferable Longbottom—"

"Who, exactly, do you think I should approach?" Allie asked. "To my dorm-mates I'm 'that creepy older girl', to my age-mates I'm that strange first year. Draco Malfoy and his minions are, at best, condescending and idiots respectively. I might be able to put up with that, but every fourth and fifth words out of his mouth are 'my' and 'father', and I'm beginning to strongly suspect that he has not one original idea in his brain. The upper years have already figured out who I am and have made overtures, but they're interested in me because of my family and the magic backing it. Besides, the looks Marcus Flint has been giving me are disturbing at best."

"Marcus Flint is a fine young man, from a fine family," Snape said.

"And I'll grant you that he even has some skill on a broom," Allie said. "It doesn't change how I feel about how he's looking at me. Besides, there is one very big flaw in how those upper years view me."

"And that is?" Snape asked.

"The wizards are looking at me as a witch, considering what wealth and magic and prestige I can bring to their families, while the witches are sizing me up as a potential rival. The problem is that the Thornes are matriarchal. They'll be marrying into _my_ family, not I into theirs, and most of Britain, at least the wizarding side, is too patriarchal to really understand what that means.

"Besides, I have reasons for my associations."

"Do tell," Snape said dryly.

"Longbottom is my ticket to passing more than potions, and fixing his mistakes is not only educational, but proving more challenging that the other first year work. No offense intended, I understand why I am in first year Potions and I don't hold it against you, sir. As for the 'puffs, I'm associating myself with Harry Potter, who has, quit unwittingly I'm sure, surrounded himself with a number of people who might prove useful in the future, and having the ear of the Boy-Who-Lived is not a small thing."

"And when he finds out that your father was one of the Dark Lord's minions? That he is responsible for an unknowable number of deaths among both the wizarding world and muggles?"

"What makes you think he doesn't already know, Professor?" Allie asked.

Harry snuck down the stairs a little more until he could peek around the corner. The Potion Master was standing with his arms crossed, peering down at Allie who was curled in a high-backed leather chair, holding one knee to her chest.

"He was there when Headmaster Dumbledore tried to bar my admittance to Hogwarts," she said, "again."

\|/\|/\|/

Interlude: Tonks  
15:43 hours  
28th October

Tonks slowly slid her wand from the gel-like contents of the cauldron. A gossamer web of iridescent magic traced a delicate web through the translucent substance.

"Charms have been implanted."

"That's four," Padma said breathlessly. "It's beautiful."

Tonks nodded in agreement.

"Okay, let's start heating them up again for the next step," Allie said, poking at the fire under it.

"What a way to ruin a moment," Tonks muttered, moving to an identical cauldron. She'd been a bit dubious about the Slytherin despite the first prank, and she had quickly decided after the first two times she'd agreed to help the witch practice that she didn't want to be around if Allie was doing anything with transfiguration or most charms, but also that it was impossible to deny that the Snake was a genius with runes. As far as potions were concerned she didn't have the range of knowledge that Tonks had as an N.E.W.T.-level potion student, but the seventh year would readily admit that she did have a much better depth of understanding in the range she did have.

For all of that knowledge, Tonks much preferred working with Padma when it came to brewing. It wasn't because the first year wasn't a Slytherin or had some fascinating new insight into potions—though those were and were not the case, respectively. It was because Allie treated potions with a cold precision and saw none of the beauty in them that Padma could find.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Tonks whispered a word. The fire under the cauldron grew hotter as Allie and Padma moved on to adjust the fires under two more cauldrons.

"Time?" Allie asked.

Tonks glanced at the large clock mounted on the wall, the sand-glass timers by each of the four cauldrons, and then pulled out a gold pocket watch and compared its seven hands to the other five timepieces. "Fifteen-forty-three and…seventeen seconds."

"She's really loving this, isn't she?" Padma whispered to Allie loud enough for Tonks to hear.

Tonks blushed, but didn't let it reach her skin as the other girl nodded mutely. "Three leafs from tierce-brush," she said out loud, "In…ten seconds." She picked up three leaves, already prepared, with her left hand while the other held her watch. Padma likewise picked up leafs and moved to a cauldron, while Allie held leafs over the last two. "Five," Tonks said. "Four…three…two…one…_now_."

Three leafs dropped into four cauldrons each.

"Color change," Allie reported. "Cauldron R to light blue and bronze."

"Gryffindor, red and gold," Padma said. "Sly—"

Tonks nodded in satisfaction. "A change to the initial colors of the target is a good sign."

"Except that Cauldron S has not only liquefied like it should," Allie said, "it is now starting to simmer."

Tonks frowned. "That isn't in the recipe," she said unnecessarily. Just to be sure she grabbed the heavy book that the potion had been found, a sheaf of parchment notes, and the small tome that their own recipe was in.

"I know, I'm reducing heat."

"Cauldrons G and R are starting to boil," Padma said quickly as she tapped her wand at the fires under the two cauldrons.

Definitely wasn't in the books. "Okay," she said, setting them down on a lab bench. "I'm reducing heat on Cauldron H. It's at a rolling boil."

"I've turned off the fires on G and S," Padma said. "The boiling is increasing."

Okay, that wasn't a good sign.

"Maybe its siphoning heat and we're looking at a runaway endothermic reaction?" Tonks asked, at a loss for a better explanation.

Allie held up a thermometer. "Temperature in the room isn't dropping any. It can't be sucking in heat. Not in sufficient quantity."

"It could be exothermic, but we just had them over a fire," Padma said. "It'll be a bit before we can determine if the heat being shed is normal, or if the potion is producing heat as a byproduct."

There was a relatively straight-forward way to check for that, and, if the reaction was heat-based, stopping it in its tracks. "I'm going to try applying cooling charms."

"I don't see how this could be an excess heat issue, not for this extreme a reaction," Allie said as Tonks began to carefully layer a trio of weak cooling charms on top of one-another—a somewhat safer and much more controllable alternative to hitting it with one massive cooling spell. Metal cauldrons had been known to shatter when subjected to rapid temperature change. "We're on the verge of a runaway. We may have a bad reaction."

"Bad reaction with what?" Padma asked. "You said that these were all from your personal stores, or from the school's potion supply closet."

"I had to owl-order a few things," Allie said. "And my usual shop doesn't place owl orders. It could be that some of them were contaminated, that or maybe the timing wasn't quite exact enough because we're trying to do four cauldrons at once?"

Tonks stared at the cauldron as it seemed to consume the cooling charms, sucking the shimmering magic of coldness into its very being.

"Tonks?" Padma asked.

"It's absorbing magic," Tonks said in a voice soft with confusion.

"What?" Allie asked.

"I'm applying cooling charms, but the cauldron is…absorbing them, I guess," Tonks said, describing the effect. "I think the potion is…endo-magical, I suppose. Absorbing magic."

"That's insane," Allie said.

"Or maybe it's just some of the ingredients reacting, breaking down and giving off some gasses," Padma said. "Did anyone try getting a temperature of the contents of the cauldrons?"

Allie picked up a pair of thermometers and Tonks stepped to one side as she stuck one in the yellow and black cauldron, then crossed the room and stuck the other in the blue and bronze cauldron. "Cauldron R, thermometers reads 'getting hotter'," she reported.

Tonks felt a sinking sensation at the little image of a phoenix in flames. "Cauldron H says 'heat increasing rapidly'."

_*Pop*_

She jerked back as a yellow bubble with black banding about the size of Padma's fist popped into the air above the Hufflepuff cauldron. It hovered there peacefully.

Tonks reached up and poked one bubble with her wand. Instantly it split into three identical bubbles that began to slowly bounce in the air.

_*Pop*_

"I have a bad feeling about this," the seventh year said as a blue/bronze bubble popped into the air above the Ravenclaw cauldron.

"Tonks, make sure the fires are off. Padma, grab the supplies," Allie snapped as the rate of bubble production began to increase.

It was unnecessary. Tonks had already extinguished all the flames and placed sealing spells over the tops of the cauldrons so that no more bubbles could escape. It was no use. The sealing spells shimmered briefly, then, like the cooling charms, disappeared.

Allie crossed to the door. On the wall next to it was a glowing red button four inches across. Written on it in big block letters was 'DON'T PANIC'.

As soon as Padma and Tonks stepped back Allie pushed the button. Instantly the button changed to a bright green as the words changed to 'PANIC!' as a muted alarm throbbed in the air. Silver rings of magic circles flared into existence when the panic button had been pressed, containing the results of the incorrectly-made potion.

"Containment Systems…Holding," Tonks' voice echoed in the room. Despite the situation the vocal warning caused Tonks to smile slightly. Her dad still frequently watched the muggle telly, and was particularly a fan of muggle 'science fiction'. She'd gotten the idea of a vocal warning from one of his shows, and was privately certain that he'd have appreciated it if he knew about it.

There was pounding on the door, and after a moment a small hatch slid open.

"Tonks, are you all right?" Cedric asked.

"We're fine, Ced," Tonks said. "We, uh, had a bit of a problem, but the containment circles worked just fine."

"Automatic?" he asked.

"No, Allie hit her PANIC button," Tonks said.

"So it's safe to open the door?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Tonks said.

Cedric cracked open the door. When nothing happened he opened it wide and walked in. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," Tonks admitted. She glanced at Allie before adding, "Our best guess is probably ingredient contamination.

"The potions were going perfectly. We had the gel-state spell-matrix. The charms were inserted cleanly. No indication of unstable tendencies. Then we added the tierce-bush leafs and suddenly the cauldrons began to boil."

"Don't cauldrons normally do that?"

"Not after they've been pulled from the fires and had cooling charms layered on them," Tonks told him dryly.

"Oh."

*_Pop_*

*_PopPop_*

*_PopPopPop_*

All four High Lords of Chaos turned to find a half-dozen more bubbles floating over the cauldrons.

"Any idea of how many bubbles each of those cauldrons is capable of producing?" Cedric asked.

"Not a clue," Tonks said. "Kind of nifty though."

*_Pop_*

A bubble burst from the Gryffindor cauldron and drifted into another bubble.

*_PopPopPopPop_*

Both bubbles burst, and where there had been two bubbles now there were four.

*_PopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopP opPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPo pPopPop_*

\|/\|/\|/

Harry ducked back as Professor Snape started to turn.

"Very well then, I will not tell you who to associate with, though I will continue to encourage you to look to your own house. That is why we have the house system in the first place."

"Understood," Allie said coolly.

"Do try to at least rest, even if you don't sleep," Professor Snape said. "If you continue to remain up in the Common Room at all hours of the night I _will_ dose you with sleeping potions. Have I made myself clear?"

"You have."

Harry listened for the sound of the entrance opening, and then waited until it was closed again before drawing a shaky breath. He counted to five, then crept into the common room just as Tonks was emerging from the female dorms.

"Are we still good?" Tonks asked softly.

"Yes," Allie said.

"How are things going?" Harry asked, gesturing to the female dorms.

"It's going to be tight," Tonks allowed. "But if we hurry I think we can make it."


	12. Chapter 12: Troll

**Chapter 12: Trolls**

"…from the great heavy faces of them, and their size, and the shape of their legs, not to mention their language, which was not drawing-room fashion at all…"  
J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Hobbit_

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Harry had quickly lost track of time. There were classes and schoolwork, quidditch practice three nights a week, meals and of course sleep. There was cleaning the school as ordered by Thrace—being seen by Malfoy, Cornfoot, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Zacharais Smith (Harry's dorm-mate was rapidly making himself unpopular) once or twice a week was mostly sufficient to convince the school of his 'year-long detention'—and some mandatory exploration of the Sett, burrows, and more common secret passages.

Then there were the non-secret parts of Hogwarts which were worth exploring as well. The library was so large that if Harry could have picked up Number 4 Privet Drive, he could have hidden it (and Numbers 3 and 5 as well) inside of the library with room to spare. The Clock Tower was a giant working clock that ran on magic with stairs and passages that ran through (and in some cases were part of) the movement. The Astronomy Tower was the tallest—odd, since Allie had reported looking down over the top of it from the Headmaster's Office window—but one level down was a room with a charmed ceiling that could show the night sky from anywhere on Earth at any time of the day.

And then there had been the cleaning of the Tower of Turmoil. Even at Number 4 he had never cleaned so much, and that was just the non-magical parts. Tonks simply waved her wand and vanished the ruined furniture, but disposing of the not-so-small flock of clogged-up half-feral free-flying feathered-dusters that Cedric had found and let fly free for a day was another matter entirely.

The Tower had seven levels from the lowest of the laboratory rooms, to the library in the observation deck. By late October only the library and two of the lower levels could truly be considered clean. The Circle Room, as it was being called, had such a thick layer of grime under the compost—which Professor Sprout loved but was at a loss to explain where it had come from—that they had despaired of ever getting it clean.

Finally Cedric and Tonks had decided enough was enough. Over two days supplies began to pile up in the library. There were wooden casks that were taller than Harry and that any two of the first years working together could not put their arms around, and a pair of large nets filled with feral stiff extra-bristling bristle brushes that simply _had_ to have been brought in through the observatory roof though Harry hadn't seen either arrive. The first night, Tonks and Cedric—with Harry along as a lookout—had flown around the tower sealing each of the doors and windows.

The next night Cedric produced an unbelievably large hose which he and Harry uncoiled in the library while Tonks took the other end down and flew in a window left open in the castle.

"Fourth floor?" Harry asked Cedric.

"Prefects Bath," Cedric explained as he dropped the other end down the iron staircase. "She got the password from Thrace. Something about a bet to be the first to visit every room and have photographic evidence."

Hot water began to gush out of the hose.

With just the one hose Harry thought it'd take days, or at the very least hours, to fill the tower. It didn't take much more than ten minutes, however, for the water to reach the top of the staircase that led down from the Circle Room. When the water level reached up to the fourth step of the spiral staircase a few minute later, Cedric indicated it was time to open the first keg. The older boy used his wand to levitate it in the general direction of the stairs, but mostly he used magic to nullify its weight while Harry directed it into place.

Harry quickly discovered, much to Cedric's amusement, that no _weight_ did not mean no m_ass_, and thus rediscovered the principal known as inertia by almost taking a bath. Fortunately he caught himself on the stairs and was able to struggle back up them. He and Cedric finally got the keg into place and Cedric used his wand to pop out the bung.

A purple potion flowed forth from the barrel, splashed across the stairs, and began to foam on contact with the water. With experience from the first the remaining kegs were easier to pour into the Circle Room. This was followed by a large chest of flakes that Cedric claimed were 'nutrients'.

With the water level nearing the floor of the library Cedric went to the open observatory window and threw up sparks. There was a soft wail, and then the ghostly piper picked up a quick piece that had Harry tapping his foot as he and Cedric rolled up the hose.

Tonks appeared shortly after to help, and then they had to dump both nets of bristle brushes in. Harry was certain that his hand got bitten, but all he had to show for it were three extra-shiny fingernails.

A week later an absolutely massive thunderstorm hit and the three of them, under the guise of 'teaching Harry to fly in heavy weather', roped themselves together and set off with their brooms. They undid the seals that the two older students had placed on the doors days before, and foaming white water and scores of thrashing bristle brushes gushed from the tower.

Tonks followed them down and began transfiguring the bristle brushes into frogs, while Cedric charmed all of the doors and windows wide open.

Finished, they returned to find Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. Professor Sprout applauded their 'dedication' but firmly said 'no more', while Pomfrey muttered dark things of which only the word 'quidditch' was firmly heard and poured goblets of pepperup potion down their throats.

For three days the thunderstorm stuck around. Sometimes it stopped to only drizzled, but other times it lashed the school so hard that even the piper was driven inside where he was heard to sing—Snape had threatened to curse away his pipes if he played them inside the school—about the 'land of the kilt and sporran' and how he wished 'the wind was warm' to the tune of 'Scotland, the Brave.'

\|/\|/\|/

Even when the cleaning was done the time was quickly taken over by planning Operation Buttercup. It took Padma and Ernie, plus some unwitting help from Neville, nearly a week to find the combination of charms needed for Professor Sprout's—subject Streeler—gift, and the less said about Shrake's cauldron the better.

They couldn't even _find_ the charms for an animated mouse, and the three they tried blew up, burned, or tore itself apart. Three days before Halloween Allie had owl-ordered a custom-made animated mouse that was the size of a dog—perfect for a lion—and fur colored the McGonagall Clan tartan that Ernie had found.

Tonks and Padma had put their heads together for Fwooper, the Head of Ravenclaw, and both had steadfastly refused to tell anyone what it was.

And then there was—

So perhaps it was understandable that Harry found himself in Charms on Halloween, having completely forgotten that today they were going to learn to levitate objects. Professor Flitwick paired them up and passed out feathers.

"Now remember," he told his Harry's class. "Use that nice wrist movement we have been practicing. Swish and flick. Remember to roll your wrist so that it is all one nice movement, swish-_flick_, and remember that the pronouncing the words properly is important too. Never forget the lesson that Wizard Baruffio who said 's' instead of 'f' and so ended up with a bison on his chest."

Harry found himself paired up with Susan and both swished and flicked without result.

At the desks nearby Ernie flailed his arm like a windmill and shouted, nearly managing to take off Professor Flitwick's head as he moved between desks to offer advice and encouragement.

"Not so much energy, Mr. Macmillan. A simple swish and flick will do," Flitwick said as Harry and Susan turned to observe. "Let's try it together, shall we? Swish and flick. Again. Swish and flick. Good. Now try adding the words."

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Ernie shouted.

"Very nearly!" Flitwick cried, seeming to levitate himself without the use of magic. "Try it again, make the 'gar' nice and long and you might try 'levi-oh-sa' instead of 'levi-ō-sa'."

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Ernie shouted again without avail.

"Let me try," Justin said. He pointed his wand at the feather for a moment, fixing it in his mind or trying to calm his nerves Harry couldn't tell, then— "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he said in an intense but hushed voice, almost as though he breathed every fiber of his being into it.

The feather twitched, then, slowly, so very slowly, it rose into the air under the direction of Justin's wand.

"Well done, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Flitwick said in a soft voice that mirrored the intensity with which Justin was fixing on the feather, now hovering near the ceiling. "Very well done indeed. Five points to Hufflepuff…and now you can relax a little. This is _magic_, not work."

Justin grinned and some of the tension left the set of his shoulders. He gave his wand a little flick and the feather bounced in the air.

"It's a kind of magic," the muggle-born softly half-sang as he began to float the feather around the room in time with the song.

"Precisely, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Flitwick said with a pleased nod. "Precisely."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry had never cared for Halloween. At the Dursleys he was locked in his cupboard while Dudley got to go out Trick-or-Treating. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, convinced he would steal the candy meant for the other neighborhood children, didn't even allow him to stand at the door and hand out mars bars even though it meant that they had to do it themselves. He was never allowed to dress up, and Dudley frequently went as a pirate or a knight and would spend the days before and after the 31st whacking Harry with his plastic sword until it broke after which he would be sent to his cupboard for 'being an ungrateful brat and breaking sweet little Dinky Diddydum's toys.'

So he would sit in his cupboard, close enough to hear the other children call 'trick-or-treat' while his Aunt Petunia—usually Uncle Vernon would follow Dudley in the car—handed out candy. The only things for him to do, really, were to imagine what _he_ would dress up as if he were allowed to go trick-or-treating…and reflect on just why he couldn't.

This year, knowing that they weren't drunk wastrels on the dole—which would normally be a good thing—but had instead been murdered by a dark wizard who had tried and failed to kill Harry (which took from the good part slightly), had its own problems. So instead of reflecting on the tenth anniversary of his parents' deaths, he had taken to worrying about their first real prank.

"Relax, Harry, it'll be fine," Justin said as they walked across the Entrance Hall.

"It's not about…that," Harry said. "It's just…Halloween has never been a good day for me."

Justin's eyes widened slightly and his gaze drifted up slightly towards Harry's forehead. "Yeah…I guess I can understand that."

"It's not even that, not all the time," Harry said. "It's just—" the doors of the Great Hall were coming up and while he liked Justin he really didn't want to talk about his home life. Especially since the Dursleys tried to be pathetically 'normal' while Justin's were both extremely well off _and_ more normal than the Dursleys could ever hope to be. "It's just complicated," he finished as they entered the hall.

Then there was nothing further to say. Carved pumpkins sat on the tables filled with balls of green fire. More carved pumpkins hovered in the air and thick flocks of bats, like small black clouds, flew around the Great Hall. A group of ghostly musicians sat in one corner and played soft, eerie music. A large tub of water stood before the High Table, near where the Sorting Hats' stool had been for the Sorting Feast, in it floated hundreds of apples.

As they sat Harry noted that Professor Quirrel wasn't in his seat, but Hagrid had a place at the end and waved to Harry.

Once everyone was seated Professor Dumbledore stood and struck his crystal goblet with a spoon which produced a single, high, musical chime that hung in the hall for what seemed like half of forever.

In the distance the Clock Tower began to strike.

Dumbledore paused with his spoon in mid-air as the Clock Tower struck again and again until it had spoken of the twelfth hour.

"It can't possibly be midnight yet," Susan muttered. Several other students were also looking around uneasily, Harry noticed, but most hadn't noticed, held spell-bound by the feast.

_Tap, tap, tap_

It was Justin who had suggested the midnight hour and having a courier deliver the letter, but they didn't have anyone who could play the part without being noticed for their absence from the feast. Tonks, however, had remembered scraps of a particularly creepy muggle poem that her father had recited once in an attempt to scare her. It had only taken a few hours with the _Complete Concordance of Beings Animalculous in Muggle Verse_—borrowed from the Muggle Studies classroom—to find the complete copy of the poem.

Harry's eyes flicked to one of the fireplaces that lined the walls and kept the Great Hall well-lit and toasty warm even in what was already looking to be an amazingly cold winter. _And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor._

As if merely thinking the words had triggered a spell—they hadn't, but he had practiced the timing so much that it seemed that way—the fires in the fireplaces guttered then went out, leaving only glowing coals. This was followed by most of the floating candles likewise extinguishing themselves, but the pumpkins remained untouched. The Great Hall was plunged into a ruby-like glow from the embers in the fireplaces reflecting off the marble floor, and sickly green glow from the pumpkins whose carved mouths cast jagged shadows across the hall.

_Tap, tap, tap_

The curtains, the _purple_ curtains, over the high windows along the walls of the Great Hall rustled and Harry felt his heart began to beat faster as he glanced around the hall.

_Tap, tap, tap_

It was a clever collection of mild anxiety charms, some Suggestion, minor gusts of air, and a very mild fear spell, all working together, all timed off the particular sound of a goblet being struck with a spoon. Tonks, Harry decided as he experienced the planned effects at last, was a _very_ scary person when she put her mind to it.

_Tap, tap, tap_

Harry stood suddenly, his face schooled into a wooden expression that, like the timing, he had spent a great deal of time practicing.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"T'is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;" Harry said this out loud as he slowly crossed the Great Hall to the door. "This it is and nothing more."

He reached the door and called out. "Sir, or Madame, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping, and so gently you can rapping and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that I scarce was sure I heard you," here Harry opened wide the door

He peered out into the dark hall and grinned. Showtime. "_Lenore_?" he asked

The charmed Entrance Hall echoed back "_Lenore!_" so forcefully it rippled through the Great Hall.

"Harry," Dumbledore said again.

Harry pulled the doors closed. "Darkness there and nothing more." He reported. "Merely this and nothing more." He turned back to his seat.

As he prepared to sit down the tapping returned, somewhat louder than before.

_Tap, tap, tap_

"Surely," said Harry, "Surely that is something at my window lattice; let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; 'T is the wind and nothing more!"

Dumbledore's face was a study in ruddy light and deep shadows, but Harry caught a twinkle in the man's eyes as he turned towards the window.

A flick of his wand snapped the curtains on the left-hand side of the Hall's windows open. It wasn't his magic, but once more delay-activated charms and he had practiced to get the timing right.

It wasn't _quite_ perfect timing. The idea was to plant confusion. If he had cast the spell, whether on his own or under a compulsion, the timing would have been exact.

A little imperfection made it seem all the more _real_. Like he was under a minor compulsion to walk around and spout a few lines and wave his wand in the air, but still obvious that he wasn't actually doing the spells. And if he had been on it, then presumably he'd have time enough to have practiced so that the timing was perfect. That nearly-perfect-but-not-quite timing was its own sort of perfection, the sort of perfection that the Chaos Lords had set as a goal for themselves and that if successful, nobody would recognize for what it was.

That was, at least, the idea.

A second flick snapped all the windows open and thunder boomed outside.

It had been impossible to find a way to make lightning flash across the ceiling of the Great Hall. Instead Ernie had bulk-ordered flash-cubes for a wizarding camera, and a half-dozen spelled to go off one after the other produced a reasonably realistic flash if seen indirectly.

A raven stepped onto the window ledge, then a single flap of its wings sent it sailing across the room to the doors where it perched upon the bust of Pallas on a wooden beam just above the Great Halls doors. That particular ornament they had been unable to find in any of the owl-order catalogs unless they wanted one that moved and talked. Justin had sent home to his father for it, and Harry had had all sorts of fun imagining Uncle Vernon if he had seen it and knew how much it cost. Cedric and Tonks had put it in on the same night they had arranged the presents for the Heads of House and it had hidden behind a glamour until now.

"Though they crest be shorn and shaven, thou," Harry said, "art sure no craven; ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore tell me what they lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

A letter fell from the raven's beak and fluttered once or twice before landing on the stone floor. Then the bird cocked its head at Harry and made reply. "Nevermore."

Harry flicked his wand twice as the windows closed and curtains returned to their places. He then slowly crossed to the letter and picked it up while watching the bird which didn't move. After a while he muttered, his voice echoing in the dark Great Hall, "Other friends have flown before. On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

"Nevermore."

Harry looked at the bird again.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry turned to his Headmaster. "Doubtless," he said crossing the room to him, "what it utters is its only stock and store. Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore. Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore of 'Never—nevermore.'"

He handed Dumbledore the letter. It was a thick vellum envelope with an intricate wax seal binding it closed that Padma and Parvati had designed at the same time they scripted the Introduction. Harry returned to his seat while Dumbledore examined the envelope.

"Harry?" Susan asked.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said. "Why?"

"Because," she gestured to the door, then the window, then the raven on its bust of Pallas. "What was all that?"

"Oh," Harry said. "I suppose something came over me."

Justin, who was sitting on Harry's left, thumped him on the thigh.

Dumbledore slit the seal and opened the envelope.

The few lights in the Great Hall dimmed.

Above them twenty foot-tall shadowy figures, that would have been quite scary if not for the fact that each wore a fully-illuminated eye-blistering tie-dyed cloak, appeared. Before them was a wide bank of windows through which they peered. It was just possible to look past the figures to see a view of Hogwarts from some place that was quite high up

It was a complex illusion, or it would have been if they had gone that route. Instead, Tonks and Allie had recorded an actual scene using wizard camera to capture a score of images, and then magiked them together into a single image that a charm had trapped in a parchment until it was released. So instead of a hand-crafted illusion, it was merely a projection of another image, a far simpler feat to accomplish.

Depending on where one was sitting there were anywhere from six to twenty figures, and while an image of Hogwarts from one of its towers was splayed across one wall so that they looked down at it, the image was Hogwarts seen from no less than seven different towers, depending on where one was sitting.

Then, as one, dozens of voices spoke as one—actually recordings distorted and then blended seamlessly together. Likewise, heavily distorted individual voices were used for the individual speakers as the robed figures moved.

_The High Lords of Chaos  
From their Tower of Turmoil  
Looked down on fair Hogwarts…  
And quickly recoiled._

_For in her great halls  
Where magic was taught  
Things were not going  
At all as they ought._

_The Professors so stern  
The students so glum  
It did not look at all  
Like they were having much fun_

_The First of their Order  
To his brethren did spake  
And he sayest: 'my friends  
Why doest the walls not shiver and shake?_

'_Where are the laughs?  
The chuckles and snorts  
At Snape's bright blue hair  
And McGonagall's new warts?_

There was not much light in the hall, but there were enough pumpkins on the High Table or hovering over it to see that Professor Snape's hair was now a different color, and Professor McGonagall now had additional shadows on her face that she hadn't moments before.

'_Where is the fun in  
Note-taking and tests?  
Why are there no pranks  
Witty jokes or fast jests?'_

'_Mine confusion is great'  
(Such was how they spoke)  
Chief Confuser confided,  
_'_There is no joy in learning by rote'_

_While all of them agreed  
With the Confusor's words.  
None spoke save the Second Straight-man  
But he was quite clearly heard._

_The Straight-man he sayest  
_'_How they have forgotten,  
That life is too serious  
To be seriously taken.'_

"_My Straight-man is right,'  
The First Fool did add._  
'_Besides there's a fine feast  
Waiting to be had.'_

'_We ourselves must go  
Take the situation in hand,'  
The Master of Mayhem said  
Before revealing his plan._

'_Chief Mascot and Prophet  
We send before it's begun  
He shall be known as  
The Poltergeist of Pranks Yet To Come_

_We sendeth our Agent  
(The one most Absurd),  
And Herald of Hysterics  
To spread forth the word._

'_The Harbinger of Havoc next  
(I shall come fourth),  
Then Dean of the Decoys  
And Major of Mirth._

'_I will add two more to this  
Collection of chaos  
Ridiculous Rex and his  
Ludicrous Lieutenant._

'_Eight is great plenty  
To loose on Hogwarts' fair halls  
But just wait and see,  
We shall add more to the rolls.'_

'_Bravo, Great Master'  
All of them said.  
_'_Whither thou goest  
None sleeps soundly in bed_

'_No Prefect Patrols  
Shall pass by unpranked  
No junior agents of chaos  
Shall continue unthanked._

'_No more shall the students  
Stumble by in their lives  
For we foresee laughs,  
Grins and bright eyes._

'_Nor the Professors  
Set in their ways  
Live without caution  
For the rest of their days'_

'_But Master of Mayhem?'  
Asked the Senior-most Secretary of the Silly and Strange  
_'_With what great practical prank  
Shall you reveal the change?'_

'_A General Decree of Intent,  
Announced by surprise.  
Then a recitation of these minutes  
By this shall they know what we shall supply._

'_Next some other changes  
I believe are in order  
A change of color  
Will first spread disorder_

Everyone's black robes began to…change, though the dim colored light only hinted at how as the recording continued.

_Green, I have found,  
Is quite nice with gold  
While silver and blue  
Is never too old._

_Bright yellow shall brighten  
The bronze in one house  
While bright scarlet and black  
Suffice for those quiet as a mouse_

'_Now all of these robes  
Should be bright and easy to spot,  
Such as striped or with zigzags  
Or large polka-dots._

'_As to these uniforms  
What do you think?'  
Spake the Herald of Hysterics_  
'_I'd like them trimmed with a really bright pink!'_

'_But what of the Professors,  
The Headmaster and staff?'  
Agent of the Absurd  
Quickly spoke up and asked._

'_As for the staff,  
Bright colors all  
Without any respect  
For position or House_

'_To show their fair judgment,  
Towards students all  
I think', spake the Master  
_'_Calls for an application of rainbow pastels!'_

'_Oh, wise Master of Mayhem  
I know you mean well,  
But perhaps the Profs should have a token  
Before we raise living—'_

"_Yes, Minister of Mirth  
I see what you mean  
A token for each Head of House  
And for the Headmaster the same._

'_For the Esteemed Head  
Of Gryffindor House  
I declare and bequeath  
An animated mouse_

A mouse sized for a lion—or roughly the same size as a medium-sized dog—appeared lying on McGonagall's plate.

'_As For Professor Snape,  
I think it would be most grand  
A brand new potion cauldron  
One charmed to talk back_

'_For the Professor of Plants,  
Badgers, hard work, and toil  
A new potted plant that  
Replants potted plant pots by itself,_

"Watch where you are poking that," a voice that was remarkably similar to Professor Snape's said as the Potions Master examined the cauldron before him. Professor Sprout, in contrast to the first two, seemed quite happy with the meter-high potted plant that had appeared before her.

'_For feisty little Flitwick  
A book, I should think,  
Yes, _The Codex of One-Thousand  
and One Improbable Pranks.

'_And lastly, for the Headmaster  
On his office tower's door  
A door-chime that sings songs  
For hour upon hour.'_

Flitwick opened the book that was nearly as large as he was, read the inside, and quickly closed it. Dumbledore, meanwhile, examined his plate but found nothing.

'_Oh Master of Mayhem'  
Spoke the Duke of Disorder at last  
_'_You plan rightly and well,  
But do no forget the mistakes of the past_

'_Pranks are for fun  
And enjoyment of all  
But taken too far  
Quickly become cruel_

'_Remember the Rules  
That govern the Prank  
The Riddle, the Skeer  
The Jest, Poke, and Crank'_

'_Indeed your Gracelessness,  
These five things I shall,  
For upon those that break them  
Terrible Doom™ does befall'_

'_Master of Mayhem  
First of our Order'  
Spoke the Principle Punster  
_'_I regret that you are now in disorder_

'_For the Greatness of Your Wisdom  
The Breadth of you Plan  
Of the Hilarious vision you hold  
And the Rules you understand_

'_A new Chaos Rank.  
I bid thee to laugh or cry, but keep mum  
No longer mere Master and First Lord  
But now Prince of Pandemonium.  
_

'_For your head the propeller beanie  
Your first new symbol of station  
A new magic 8-ball  
And yellow rubber chicken'_

_Then spakest the new Prince  
To all of his brethren_  
'_Is there any further business  
To be undertaken?'  
_

'_Nay' they all spake  
_'_Your directives have been given  
Our mission understood  
No more is needed.'  
_

_The First Lord of Chaos  
The Prince of Pandemonium  
The Master of Mayhem  
Looked down at Fair Hogwarts  
_

_And Spake._

The loose rhyming chant that had carried throughout this was broken as one figure turned towards everyone in the hall. Hands with long, spidery fingers, one set a pallid white, the other as dark as night, emerged from voluminous sleeves and pulled back the tie-dyed hood of the cloak. As it slipped back, the hood revealed a mask that evenly split Comedy twisted into an insane smile on one side, with Tragedy gripped by a crushing despair on the other.

A low, haunting hiss cackled through the Great Hall. The Professors all quietly checked their wands. Many of the students did the same. Everyone, including the ghosts, trembled slightly.

'_Exccelleeent'_

The figures disappeared and letters began to quickly be typed out across the long wall that had previously held the vista of Hogwarts, accompanied by a loud banging as from an infernal typewriter:

THIS DOCUMENT HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR RELEASE BY:

.  
FIRST LORD OF THE HIGH LORDS OF CHAOS  
PRINCE OF PANDEMONIUM  
MASTER OF MAYHEM  
(HIS SEAL)

A hand quickly scrawled _Janus_ over the 'FIRST LORD', and a burning brand appeared to impress a seal of the same twisted Comedy/Tragedy mask below, before all the letters were shredded into burning butterflies that burst into the air through the Great Hall. More butterflies burst from the envelope that Dumbledore had opened until it too disappeared.

There was a roar as the fireplaces relit. Candles burst alight and the pumpkins resumed their cheerfully green glow. Above the door of the Great Hall, the Raven and the bust of Pallas had disappeared.

Throughout the hall the students looked down to examine striped, zigzagged, and polka-dotted robes. The Gryffindors in green and gold with a large stylized 'G' on the front, while the Slytherins had blue and silver with equally large 'S'. The Ravenclaws wore yellow and bronze, while the Hufflepuffs looked vaguely sinister in scarlet and black, both sets of robes adorned with the letters 'R' and 'H' respectively. Almost as quickly as they had examined themselves they stopped and looked to the Professors who, indeed, had pastel-toned robes that were shaded all the colors of the rainbow.

In a show of unity, the robes of both professors and students were trimmed with an eye-blistering pink.

\|/\|/\|/

Almost casually Albus sat down, his customary short speech forgotten, and with some trepidation, rang his glass again to signal the beginning of the feast proper.

"She did this, Albus," Minerva seethed softly.

Albus frowned slightly, "Ms. Thorne?" he hazard.

"She did this," Minerva repeated, gesturing to the dog-sized mouse. "I just know it."

"Don't be absurd," Albus said. "You yourself know she hasn't the talent for it."

"So she had help. For all I know she enlisted the Weasleys and custom-ordered the mouse and the rest, but she did this."

"I have to agree with Albus on this one, Minerva," Filius said. "This book is charmed with another, I am certain of it. Whatever is written in that book will appear in this one. It cannot be used to trace back to the other. Linked books are expensive. I can't begin to calculate the cost of a pair that can't be traced. In both cases it requires the work of a charms student that is much more talented than she is, no matter what technical knowledge she may or may not possess.

"Where is your doorbell, Albus?"

"Alas, I fear it may have gotten lost in the post," Albus said.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Filius said. "I have five galleons that say it can be found at the door of your office."

"I haven't had any students up there in days," Albus demurred. "Not since Ms. Thorne."

"Blackthorn, Albus," Filius chided gently. "Respect must be given if we are to expect it in return."

"Yes, Filius, thank you," Albus said absently. "Minerva, Severus, did either of you notice—"

"We followed her quite closely, Professor," Severus said. "I saw nothing."

"Nor I," Minerva allowed. "But—"

"Then it is likely she had nothing to do with this. Complex illusions, the charms required to change everyone's robes, perhaps some sort of displacement charm on your gifts—"

"Whoever put that compulsion charm on Potter," Severus said thinly.

"Compulsion? You really think so, Severus?" Minerva asked him.

"Harry had limited knowledge of our world before Ms. Thorne introduced him to it," Albus said. "By now she could certainly have his Name, or some fingernail clippings or hairs; more than enough for someone…of her talents to remotely control a person who is unsuspecting, at least for a little while."

"I understand the process, but you think she could be that far advanced? I know she is powerful enough that once she…has a grip, but to actually acquire it in the first place? More likely that Harry was in on it."

"Muggle poetry?" Severus asked with a curled lip. "Yank, muggle poetry? I doubt he ever heard of it, much less spent the time to memorize it."

"You've heard of it," Minerva noted.

Severus looked as if he had bit something sour. "If Potter's mother had survived, perhaps he would have heard it," he said frostily. "No, Minerva, he wasn't in on it."

"But he could have been," Sprout said, entering the conversation for the first time.

"No, he could not have been," Severus said. "The timing of the wand movements was off. If he could have been bothered to be in on it, he could have easily managed the few simple charms necessary to spell aside curtains and open windows. Especially if he did have an expert charms student to assist, as the illusion and book suggest. No, the curtains and windows were delayed-activation charms and the timing was off. Amateurish."

"How so?" Minerva asked.

"A contingency charm would have been better," Filius said. "One set to go off with flicks of Mr. Potter's wand. No actual magic on his part would have been necessary to do, but the effect would have appeared like he had done it without the slight misses in timing."

"Would he have had the skill to do it though, Filius?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Exactly my point, with a contingency spell he wouldn't have needed to," Filius said. "As far as the windows go, learning to open them isn't a difficult piece of magic. If he had been in on it then whoever had done the charms for all of the rest would have been more than skilled enough to teach him how to perform it. No. Mostly likely he was under a very mild compulsion charm and it broke with the rest of the spell. Poppy can examine him, but I doubt we'll find anything."

"Perhaps you are right," Albus said. "Poppy, can you take a look at Harry, just to be safe?"

She nodded. "I wanted to schedule an exam anyway, but unless he is in danger I'm not going to tell you anything, Albus."

"I never presumed you would," he said mildly to which the nurse snorted.

"I suppose our next thought must be who is a member," Albus said after a moment.

"At least one member in my N.E.W.T. class," Filius said. "The book requires a derivation, possibly one custom-made by the enchanter, of the Protean charm. I suppose a fifth year might be able to cast it, Mister Lucas-Hanson probably could have in his fifth year but he left two years ago. I don't think any of the current lot are up to it, though if Ms. Granger continues at her current pace she might in another four years or so.

"And those robes? I know a potion can be used to deliver a charm. They're complex to brew, but use the imbiber's magic instead of the caster's, and so there is a limited niche for them. There is, however, no way, _none at all_," he said flatly, "that it could have been timed that accurately unless I am very much mistaken. Severus?"

"Timing the potion is simple in the extreme," Severus said flatly. "Especially easy in comparison to a potion that affects what the imbiber is wearing instead of the imbiber him-, or her-, self. Assuming one had both the necessary talent and supplies to brew such a potion. It would be tying it to an uncontrollable variable—in this case tapping your goblet, Headmaster—that would have proved impossible."

"Which means that it must be a charm, something placed on the benches and designed to slide onto the robes," Filius concluded. "Factor in timing variables with the fact that they couldn't possibly have known how many students were going to sit on each bench—"

"It isn't hard to determine approximately how many—"

"Approximately wouldn't be enough, Minerva," Filius said flatly. "To throw up an illusion or other glamour, to make it _appear_ to the eye that the robes have been changed, it would be. But examine your robes, Albus. You will find that the colors have been quite indubitably altered.

"For that to work accuracy is a must. The more variables the more difficult the charm becomes. Unlike the windows it probably was a contingency spell set to trigger at specific points in that poem. Adding a contingency spell would have been complicated, but at least it would have taken care of the timing issue.

"I'll even grant you that it probably would have been fine with a little leeway. But to charm that many without any of the charms sliding off because they weren't placed in sufficient strength, and no damage to robes from charms placed in too great a strength? Look around the Hall, Albus, Minerva. Not one robe is black or damaged in any way."

"Do you have any idea who—"

"None at all, Albus," Filius said. "If you asked me a half-hour ago I would have said that none of my students could do it. I will tell you this. It is someone who is very skilled, very powerful, and was probably pranked severely last year. That bit about pranksters not going unthanked? That sounded an awful lot like a threat to me, Albus."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry looked down at his robes which were striped horizontally with red and black zigzags except where there was a circle where the colors were reversed. The effect, in the flickering lighting, made his eyes sort of slide away until he reached the garishly pink hem of a sleeve.

"Who do you think they are?"

He looked up to find Susan looking at him intently.

"Pardon?" Harry asked.

"The High Lords of Chaos, who do you think they are?"

"Probably some older students that the Weasley twins pranked really bad last year and decided to have a bit of a go," Harry said.

"What was it like, walking around and talking like that?" Ernie asked on cue.

"I can't say as I really remember," Harry said. "Wish I could have seen it."

"There'll be more," Hannah said. "My friend Katie, she's in Gryffindor in the year ahead of us, says that once pranking starts it sort of feeds on it. I just hope they don't do anything _too_ disruptive."

Harry started to reply when the doors at the end of the hall were thrown open and Professor Quirrel ran into the Great Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. "Troll!" he shouted as he sprinted down the hall, "in the dungeons." He stopped, holding himself up on the Head Table as he gasped for breath. "Thought you ought to know," he told Dumbledore before slipping to the ground in a dead faint.

Harry looked at Ernie and mouthed "troll?" as the hall exploded into an uproar.

Ernie shrugged slightly and looked at Justin who shook his head.

A rippling explosion from a dozen purple firecrackers, conjured by Professor Dumbledore, silenced the din.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry caught Cedric by the sleeve of the older boy's robe as Eric Bryce began to gather together the first years. "Do you—"

"No, did you?" returned Cedric.

Harry shook his head. "Any idea how?"

Cedric frowned. "Trolls are pretty stupid. But one finding its way into Hogwarts and getting lost in the dungeons? I can understand getting lost, but in the first place, how does one get in? And second, why the dungeons?"

"And why today?" Harry added. "After what we did."

"Harry?" Bryce called.

"I'm going with Cedric," Harry said.

Bryce frowned at him but Cedric shook his head.

"We'll be right after you," he told the Prefect.

"All right then," Bryce said.

"We'll stay with them," added Justin, "safety in numbers."

Bryce didn't look happy about it, but he nodded in agreement.

"Wotcher, Harry. This your doing?" Tonks asked, slipping into step next to Cedric.

"A troll?" Harry asked. "Really?"

"Well…okay," the older girl allowed. "I suppose it was pretty far out."

"We were just thinking about what one would be doing in the dungeons," Cedric said.

"Eh," Tonks said. "Snape probably ordered it for potion ingredients and it got loose."

Harry stopped in mid-step.

"Wha—_Harry_," Tonks said, as she practically ran into him. "I have a hard enough time without you trying to trip me up on purpose."

"Say that again," Harry said.

"What? That I have a hard enough time—"

"No, the part about Snape."

"Oh," Tonks shrugged. "He likes to render his own ingredients, so it was probably ordered as live for ingredients and simply got loose."

"Someone brought it into the castle," Harry said.

"Isn't that what I just said?" she asked.

"Why would—"

"The dungeons, Ernie," Harry said. He turned to Cedric and Tonks. "While the staff goes down to the dungeons there won't be anyone watching the left-hand corridor on the third floor."

Tonks said a very rude word while Cedric looked uncertain. "I don't know… I mean, we don't even know what's in there."

"Something that someone probably broke into Gringotts to try and steal before it was brought here," Harry said, briefly explaining about Diagon Alley and meeting Hagrid.

"Okay," Cedric said slowly. "You may be right. So we tell Professor Sprout and—"

"Harry!"

Harry turned to find Parvati crossing the Entrance Hall towards them, dragging Ron by his ear.

"Parvati?" He asked. "Ron?" the Gryffindor had dropped by the Hufflepuff table for the occasional meal, but Harry had been so busy cleaning the tower, and working on the prank, and quidditch, and all the rest that he hadn't seen much of him.

"Tell him about what you told Hermione," Parvati ordered.

"Geroff," Ron said, pulling away and rubbing at his sore ear.

"Ron made fun of Hermione because she corrected him when he tried to levitate his feather earlier today," Parvati explained in a rush. "She wasn't in classes all afternoon and Lavender said she was crying in the girls' bathroom and—"

"Parvati," Harry said, cutting her off. "Stop and take a breath." When she had done this he nodded. "Okay, now, Hermione. What's wrong?"

"Harry, she doesn't know about the troll," Parvati said.

"Which bathroom?" Cedric asked immediately.

"The one on this floor, just off the Picture Gallery," Parvati said quickly.

While many, indeed most, of Hogwarts' walls were covered in pictures, there was a single long hall called the Picture Gallery. It had portraits of many of Hogwarts' most famous alumni. Some of its paintings were so large that they were taller than Hagrid and much, much wider than they were tall.

"Okay," Harry said. "Parvati, you go to Gryffindor tower. Tell whoever your Prefect is—do your first years have a Prefect assigned to you?—or Percy Weasley what you told me. Tell him I'm taking Ron to get Hermione and we'll all go to the Hufflepuff common room since its closest. Justin, Ernie, you go tell Bryce so that he knows what we're doing."

"I suppose that leave us to watch the corridor," Tonks grimaced.

"I'll do that," Cedric said decisively. "Tonks, you'd better tell the Professors…at least about—Hermione was it?"

Parvati nodded and quickly left to rejoin the Gryffindors.

"Why me?" Ron asked as Harry dragged him in the direction of a side-corridor.

"Because Hermione's in your house," Harry said.

"So?"

Harry started to reply, decided he didn't have a really good explanation as to why it was necessary for Ron to come alone other than it was the right thing to do. Instead he said, "Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to be a brave lot?"

Ron glowered but they heard footsteps behind them before he could reply. "Percy!" he hissed, dragging Harry behind a large stone griffin.

But it wasn't Percy, it was Professor Snape.

"Why is he down here instead of down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?" Harry asked.

"Search me," Ron muttered.

Quietly as possible they crept away from Snape's fading footsteps.

Harry paused to listen for a moment. "He's heading for the third floor," he whispered.

"So?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't have time to explain to Ron about his suspicions about how a troll had gotten into the dungeons or the possibly link between the job Professor Dumbledore had asked Hagrid to do, the forbidden corridor, and the Gringotts break-in.

"Never mind," he said, "let's just find Hermione and—"

Ron held up a hand. "Do you smell something?" he asked.

Harry sniffed and wrinkled his nose as he smelled something like a combination of Dudley's old socks and the type of public toilet that it seems like no one ever bothers to clean. And then he heard it as well—a low grunting and the shuffling of giant feet. Ron pointed, and at the end of the passageway on the left, something moved.

Something huge. Something that was moving towards them.

Harry pulled Ron back into a small recess behind one of the rib-like archways that were every fifteen or twenty feet in this particular passage and they watched as it emerged into a square of moonlight cast by one of the high windows on the left-hand side.

It was a horrible sight. As tall as Hagrid and maybe a foot or two taller, with lumpy skin that was a dull granite-grey. Its lumpy body was like an oblong boulder perched on a pair of very short, extremely thick tree trunk-like legs that ended in flat feet as broad as a serving platter and had thick horn-like nails. Arms that dangled nearly to the floor emerged from the body near the top, and a head about the size of a bowling ball was perched on top. The troll dragged a club behind it that was nearly as long as Ron was tall.

Harry gagged and breathed through his mouth, trying not to be sick at the incredible smell coming from it.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside it. It wiggled its long ears, making up its peanut-sized mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," Ron said nervously.

Neither moved.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"I'm waiting for you," Harry said. "You?"

"I was waiting on you," Ron admitted. "On three?"

Harry nodded. When Ron didn't begin counting he took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and choked out "Three."

They shuffled down the corridor towards the open door. Harry and Ron traded looks, and the Gryffindor was just screwing up his courage when a high, petrified scream rent the air.

"Oh, no," said Ron, doing a fair impression of the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"_Hermione!_" they said together.

Ron hesitated, but Harry charged right in.

Hermione Granger was cowering against the wall opposite, looking as if she were about to faint. The troll was advancing on her. As it went it stopped to knock each sink off the walls, though whether it was doing it because it was a terrifying thing to behold, or just general destructive-mindedness, Harry couldn't tell.

"Distract it!" Harry told Ron as he seized up a broken tap. There were no windows and the mirrors were too close—he threw it against the wall furthest from the door and Hermione.

The troll stopped lumbering towards Hermione. It slowly shuffled around, blinking its tiny eyes rapidly as its ears shifted this way and that as though it could track the source of a sound that was already gone. Its mean little eyes came to rest on Harry, and it began to lumber towards the Hufflepuff.

Harry wished desperately that the room had windows and dawn was near, but the room didn't and dawn wasn't, and he wasn't even sure if trolls really did turn to stone in daylight like in that one book he had read when Aunt Petunia made him clean—but never play in—Dudley's second bedroom. Water was gushing from the pipes of broken sinks and shattered toilets. The stalls had all been knocked down, and some of the tiling had been shattered. If there was any good news to be had, it was that the chamber was a little too low and a little too narrow for the troll to use its club to its full effect.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the bathroom. He threw a metal pipe from one of the sinks.

The troll didn't seem to notice the pipe hitting it in the shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead and giving Harry the time to run around it.

"Come on, Hermione, run, _run_!" Harry shouted at Hermione, trying to pull her towards the door. But she either would not or _could_ not move. She was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes were driving the troll wild. It roared again and started towards Ron, who was the closest to it and now had no way to escape.

Harry jerked out his wand, panic and fear and no time to really _think_ about what he was doing giving his magic an edge that it had lacked in class. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he shouted with rather less swish and flick than Flitwick had taught…and without doing one thing that Flitwick had told them was critical for the spell.

In his haste, Harry had completely forgot that he needed to specify what he was casting the levitating charm on.

Everything that wasn't firmly attached to the floor or one of the walls, or held by one of the students or troll, found its way into the air. Bits of porcelain from shattered sinks and toilets, lumber from smashed stalls, water-logged bog rolls and soggy towels, broken pipes, shards of mirror… The ruins of the girls' bathroom hovered into the air, and a sharp gesture of Harry's wand flung them at the troll.

Some, most really, of the debris missed. Several towels smacked wetly into the walls and stayed there as though plastered on. Porcelain shattered as it hit something hard, and Harry felt something score his forehead and then blood began to drip into his right eye, nearly blinding it. Ron was mostly protected by how close the troll was, and Hermione seemed to escape untouched by the same sort of insane luck that had generated the spell in the first place.

But even as most of it missed, a lot of it did hit. The troll squealed in pain as its thick hide was cut by the jagged edges of broken tiles, and several knife-like pieces of mirror ended up embedded in it. Metal pipes and broken taps rained down against it, and one shoulder—well, the troll didn't actually _have_ shoulders but where a shoulder should have been—was hit by a nearly-intact toilet flying nearly as fast as Harry was, by this point, routinely flying during quidditch practice.

Howling with pain and blind from a towel plastered over its eyes, the troll twisted around and flailed with his club. Despite there not being enough room for it to get up a really good swing the troll still left a larger-than-head-sized hole in one wall.

But it was enough distraction for Ron to get around the troll, and together the two boys were able to pull the second Gryffindor away from the wall and get her moving towards the door as the troll pawed at its face.

They reached the door—at which point Hermione rediscovered the use of her legs—just as it succeeded in getting rid of the towel.

The three ran. Not in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room, they didn't have any direction other than away from the troll. It was just about as bad a reaction as they could have had since trolls, being not very bright, were largely governed by instinctive reactions, and the instinctive reaction of a predator—which the troll was, just not a very good one—was to give chase.

They barreled down the passage, then a second. The troll, despite its short stubby legs, proved to be quite fast enough to keep up with them. Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione, planning to make a break at the next cross-corridor, but two figures stepped out of it first.

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Professor Sprout was so surprised at the sight of a full-grown mountain troll barreling at her as it chased after three students with its club raised high that she froze in shock. But a month and a half of quidditch practices, more than a month spent magically cleaning the Tower of Turmoil, not to mention working on their prank, had firmly convinced Tonks that if there was any trouble to be had it would find Harry.

It was the only explanation she had for a rider with not an hour of broom-time had managed to not only get into an inverted maple-seed twirl, but recover from it before he could become very, _very_ squishy.

She whipped out her wand even as the troll began to swing his club down and shouted "_Harry!_"

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Harry saw Tonks whip her wand up.

"_Harry!_" she shouted as something purple and burning buzzed by his ear close enough for him to feel a tingle of magic from it.

There wasn't time to look behind him and Professor Sprout was right ahead—

He barreled into the tubby little witch, his momentum enough to knock them both to the floor as the troll's club smashed down where she had stood a moment before.

Harry rolled to the side as Tonks threw a cloud of flame into the troll's face which seemed to do a little more than annoy it.

"_Locomotor mortis!_" he snapped at the troll. They had briefly talked about the leg-locker charm in Defense Against the Dark Arts but hadn't really gotten around to learning it yet, but he couldn't think of anything better.

Something may have flickered between his wand and the troll, it was hard to be sure in the dark corridor, but if it did it had no effect.

"Hey, ugly!" Ron shouted at the troll that was advancing on Tonks while Professor Sprout scrabbled for her wand that had been knocked from her hand when Harry had crashed into her. He shot sparks from his wand that, normally, wouldn't have even managed to grab the troll's attention. But they slapped against the troll's wounded back and it let out a roar of pain and turned to face Ron.

Harry wiped at the blood covering his eye. He couldn't see anything around to levitate and the one other spell he had tried hadn't work and, try as he might, he couldn't think of a way that turning matchsticks into needles would help. Without any better ideas he screwed up his face as he glared at the troll's limp, matted hair and tried to remember what it was like lighting the candle in Allie's flat. Then, because he wasn't holding what he wanted to set on fire and it seemed the right thing to do, he whispered, "_burn._"

The thick, choking stench of burning rancid grease filled the corridor as the troll's matted hair smoldered…then burst into flame.

The troll roared in pain. Tonks flicked another spell at it, but the troll was moving to wildly and a jet of lurid blue magic caromed off the ceiling, nearly hitting Hermione.

The Gryffindor girl whipped her wand at the troll and cried something and bluebell-colored flames poured across its body.

Professor Sprout had her wand back, but Ron, dodging the flaming troll, got in the way.

The troll spotted him, apparently decided that taking someone with it was enough, and raised its club.

Ron moved his wand, calling up the first spell he could think of. "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

The club was jerked right out of the troll's upraised hands.

Surprised at his continuance of life and the success of the spell surprised Ron so much that he forgot to maintain the spell, which dropped the club on the troll's head.

"_Move_," Professor Sprout ordered, grabbing the back of Ron's robes and jerking him out of the way as the troll fell to the ground. She jabbed her wand at the troll and reeled off a rapid succession of spells, putting out the fire, banishing the bluebell flames, and making sure the troll remained down.

"Did I…is it…dead?" Ron asked.

"No, Mr. Weasley," Professor Sprout said. "Just unconscious. Faerie Fire, Ms. Granger?"

"I…I thought they would distract it," Hermione said.

There were loud footsteps from the side passage and then Professors McGonagall burst into the corridor, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, made a faint whimpering sound, and sat down on a nearby bench clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was staring at Harry and Ron with white lips.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall demanded with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Professor Sprout scowled at Snape before turning to Professor McGonagall. "Now, Minerva—"

"No," McGonagall said coldly. "You will not 'now, Minerva' me on this, Pomona."

"Mr. Potter is my student—"

"And Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are mine," McGonagall snapped.

"Professor," Harry said, freezing as both turned to him.

Professor Sprout shook herself slightly and nodded to Harry. Her expression wasn't its usual cheery self, but it was far better than the look on Professor McGonagall's face, so Harry tried to ignore the Transfiguration Mistress as he dabbed at the blood with the sleeve of his robe.

Before he could continue, Hermione unexpectedly spoke up. "It was my fault."

"It wasn't anyone's fault," Harry protested before she could continue. "Parvati and Ron came up to me in the Great Hall and said that Hermione hadn't come to the feast. That she, er, hadn't been feeling well. So Tonks offered to go get you, Professor Sprout, and Parvati was going to tell the Gryffindor Prefect, and Ernie and Justin were going to go tell Eric Bryce who's our Prefect. Ron and I were just going to go get Hermione and I was going to take them back to the Hufflepuff common room since it's closest until…until you caught the troll and it was safe."

"And then?" Professor Sprout prodded.

"And then we got to the girls' bathroom where Hermione was just as the troll was going in," Harry said. "Ron and I went in and distracted it—"

"He was awesome," Ron said enthusiastically. "He levitated nearly every broken piece of…well, _everything_ and flung it at the troll."

Professor McGonagall's lips grew even whiter as Ron spoke.

"And then we got out and…ran," Harry finished.

"Not in the direction of the Hufflepuff commons," Professor Sprout said.

"We were more interested in getting away," Harry admitted. "And I remember how…strange the campfire was. I don't think there would have been time if Hermione or Ron had hesitated and…well…" he shrugged helplessly

"I don't think any of them can be faulted for doing anything _wrong_, Minerva," Professor Sprout said. "There are things that could have been done better, perhaps, but we did leave the Great Hall in a hurry."

Professor McGonagall did not look at all happy with this, but she nodded tersely.

"There is something I would like to know," Snape said suddenly. "And that is what is so engrossing about a conversation between first years that a seventh year was listening in."

Tonks hesitated, "Well I wasn't, not really."

"Indeed?" Snape asked, raising and eyebrow.

"Professor Sprout assigned Potter a bunch of extra work because of that thing with riding a broom when he wasn't supposed to," Tonks said, falling back on what had become something of a joke in the Hufflepuff common room. "I've offered to help him with some of his studies because of how little time he has and because it's a good review of basic material for the N.E.W.T.s"

"How very…Slytherin of you," Snape sneered.

"Five points to Hufflepuff, each, for Ms. Tonks and Mr. Potter for proper thinking and an upstanding show of loyalty to one's friends," Professor Sprout said. "And another five to Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's outstanding display of bravery and quick wand-work."

Snape looked like he had tasted something sour, but McGonagall nodded as some of the color returned to her lips.

"The other students are finishing the feast in their Houses," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

The others followed close behind him. As soon as they had turned the corner away from the hall Tonks broke away, telling him that she'd see him in the common room, leaving Harry to walk with Ron and Hermione.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione and was surprised to find her offering him his wand. He couldn't remember losing it.

"Why?" the girl asked after a moment.

"Do you have to ask?" Harry asked, not sure how anyone reasonable would have left another person alone and unaware when there was a troll about.

"No, I mean, why did you stop me?" Hermione asked. "When I was getting ready to tell Professor McGonagall…well…you know," she shrugged lightly and refused to look at him.

"Oh," Harry said with a shrug. "I guess I really didn't see the point in you trying to take the blame just because Ron was being mean to you."

"Hey!"

"Why?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron. "What were you going to say?"

"Oh," Hermione blushed. "I was going to say that I thought I could deal with it since I had, you know, read all about trolls."

Harry looked at her askance. "Seriously?"

Hermione nodded. "Seems kind of foolish, doesn't it?"

"Just a little," Harry admitted. "Anyway, as I said, I didn't see a point. Besides, Parvati and Ernie both told prefects in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. They didn't know anything about your insane quest to slay a troll, so I thought it best that it didn't become obvious that you fibbed to McGonagall when she checked whatever story you were going to tell."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Thank you, um…how did you—" she gestured to Ron.

"'Vati dragged me over to Harry by my ear," Ron said, his ears starting to redden.

"You do know that she doesn't like to be called 'Vati', don't you?" Hermione asked. "Well," she said before Ron could reply, "I suppose I owe her a thank you too."

"Look, Harry," Ron said suddenly, but then hesitated for a moment before saying, "The password to the Fat Lady is currently Pig Snout, not that you heard it from us. Just in case, right?"

"Hufflepuff is…if you go down the corridor opposite the main entrance in the Entrance Hall there's a flight of stairs," Harry said. "Go down them, past a giant still-life of fruit, there is a painting of a campsite in the woods with a campfire in the middle. If you walk into the painting you can find Hufflepuff. No password required."

"But how does that keep people out?" Hermione asked.

"People don't expect it," Harry shrugged. "If they can find it they assume there's a password…and even those that walk into the painting can't always get into Hufflepuff, some get lost until the Prefects or Professor Sprout can lead them back to the hallway. Just remember to keep walking towards the campfire and you'll come through fine."

Somewhere in the distance the Clock Tower began to chime.

"I have to go," Harry said. "I'll see you both around?"

They nodded in agreement and the trio went their separate ways.

\|/\|/\|/

"…I'm telling you, Albus, I've never seen anything like it," Pomona Sprout was telling the Headmaster as they stood over the still form of the unconscious troll. "He just said 'burn' and it did, started burning I mean."

"Channeled magic?" Minerva asked. "That is how it is done, after all. Words and wand-motions help to make effects repeatable. And, of course, the more often a single spell is performed the easier it is which is why some of the first spells we teach are among the most common _and_ the oldest."

"'Burn' is neither," Severus said shortly.

"I am aware of that, Severus," Minerva said tartly. "We all knew that Mister Potter—"

"You aren't listening to me, Minerva," Pomona cut her off. "He didn't have his wand. He lost it when he knocked me out of the wall of the troll's club."

"Are you saying he used _deliberate_ wandless magic, Pomona?" Minerva asked incredulously. "We expected great things, yes, but this is an eleven year old boy you're talking about. An accidental discharge is believable, if only barely considering how Hogwarts damps that kind of thing. But to do wandless magic deliberately…" she shook her head.

"I don't think he realized that he dropped his wand, Minerva," Pomona said. "He tried a leg-locker first, failed, obviously. After that…" she shrugged.


	13. Chapter 13:The Greatest Game

**Chapter 13: The game of wizards**

"Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence. In other words, it is war minus the shooting."  
-George Orwell-

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As the wheel of time turned and the Earth entered the month of November, the weather turned very cold. The high mountains around the school became icy grey. The Forbidden Forest overnight turned from grim, green, and foreboding into a brilliant palette of yellows and reds and oranges almost overnight—and one night, about a week later, it turned from its brilliant display of color to grim, grey, and foreboding. The lake grew so cold that one could not touch its water without feeling like an icy knife had been plunged into their skin.

Every morning the students would wake to find frost covering the ground of Hogwarts. Some mornings it lay so heavy and was so cold, it was possible to snap off a thin ice-straw with a blade of grass inside of it. Most mornings Hagrid was seen wearing a giant moleskin coat, rabbit fur gloves, and beaver skin boots that were so large the first years could have used them for potato-sack races had they been so inclined, as he went about defrosting the brooms.

Gryffindors piled more logs on their fires. Ravenclaws went around with their wands in their hands and warming spells on their lips. The Slytherins put down comforters on their beds and were inclined to sleep late. But down in their little burrow-holes, the Hufflepuffs were quite warm.

On the first Thursday, in the Tower of Turmoil the High Lords of Chaos were debating how to properly usher in the Quidditch season which would start at the end of the week with the traditional season-opening Gryffindor/Slytherin game.

"…what do you think?" Justin finished his presentation.

Harry frowned slightly. Justin had only specified the Slytherin team, but it would be easy enough to adapt to get the Gryffindors as well—probably, they did have girls on their team and the Slytherins didn't, but that wasn't really an issue for Justin's idea. His real problem with it was that just didn't seem that funny or clever, but Cedric had a thoughtful look so maybe it was worth pursuing. He deliberately turned to Allie.

"You're the only Slytherin here," he said, unnecessarily stating something that everyone knew. Six weeks of cleaning the Tower and doing the work for their first prank had made for a harried learning experience in how to be 'First Lord', and only the fact that he was able to observe Thrace Capper acting as Quidditch Captain had allowed him—and thus the Chaos Lords as a whole—any chance of success.

Tonks collaborated with Allie on potions and trusted Padma to help her, under supervision, but while she was cheerful enough and willing to help when they struggled, Harry also knew that he and the other first years were painfully behind her. A couple of the pranks she had thought up of they wouldn't have had a chance of pulling off, but had been written down for future use. Cedric was also helpful, and unlike Tonks he was enough closer to their level, but he was more reserved and tended to sit back and watch when they were brainstorming. He was closest to Tonks and Harry, probably because they were both on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. The twins, and Justin and Ernie, had settled into their own little competing blocks that could be surprising harsh at times, which, from the look on Parvati's face, they could be getting close to.

Allie tended to sit a bit apart from the others. Aside from their collaborative work on potions she seldom had anything to do with Tonks; more because they didn't have much else in common than anything else, Harry thought. She and Padma had been spending a lot of free time together as the Ravenclaw desperately tried to help the Slytherin's flagging Transfiguration and Charms grades. But even there Harry suspected her and the twins' friendship hadn't changed much from what they had had before he and Allie had met.

That had created problems for Harry because while Justin and Ernie were both more or less accepting of a Slytherin in their midst (unlike Ron who had stopped speaking to him before the Troll Incident and still avoided him whenever Allie was around), neither, and especially Ernie, didn't care for how he deferred to her.

Taking note of Thrace occasionally using player's positions when teaching them a new play or getting their perspective of a play they were trying, he'd started adding a person's house or a specific talent. He was pretty sure Tonks knew what he was doing and why, and he did know that Allie did. That didn't matter all that much, Tonks knew she was out at the end of the year and just wanted to have some fun, while Allie had no desire at all to be in charge. But he wondered how long it would be before Justin and Ernie called him on it.

Allie shrugged in response to his question. "I don't really care, so long as it gets repeated on the Gryffindor team as well."

Harry nodded. She had told him that she didn't follow Quidditch, and had been indifferent to the proposed prank to start the Quidditch season. He started to turn away, but she smirked at Justin and deliberately added, "Fair play, and all that."

His dorm-mate bristled at being called on the perceived lapse given the Hufflepuff credo, but didn't otherwise respond to it.

"Parvati?" Harry asked, turning to the only Gryffindor.

"No," Parvati said flatly.

Justin turned to her. "Are you—"

"_No_," she repeated, crossing her arms.

"I can't think of any other way of targeting just the players, can any of you?" Justin asked challengingly.

Cedric might have preferred to sit back, but he was also a moderating influence that Harry was extremely grateful for because he leaned forward and defused the impending argument with a simple observation. "Only if we can get them while they're in the locker rooms." Cedric paused and looked at Harry.

Recognizing his cue, Harry jumped back in. "You have to admit, it'd be easier to get them while they're in there, Justin."

"Yeah, but the rest of it won't work," Justin said.

"So we'll just have to come up with something else," Harry told him. He turned to Allie, "Can you get us in?"

"No," Allie said.

Cedric turned in his seat to look at her. "I thought you said that your estimate a couple weeks ago was too conservative, that you'd have the passes ready in the next few days?"

"I was wrong," she said flatly. "I thought it was a straightforward enchantment on the house badges since only the team Captains have their own badges. Now I'm not sure, and I don't have access to a locker-room to double check. Also, the blanks I'd prefer to use are on back-order."

"What's a blank?" Justin asked.

"Something that doesn't have any magic in it but that can be enchanted," Ernie said. "Usually it refers to something that there are a lot of, and that are expected to have identical enchantments on."

"Oh, mass-produced stuff. Like the House badges before we put the runes on them?"

"Exactly," Ernie said, "though in that case I think it'd be more appropriate to call them blanks before the Hogwarts charms and wards and stuff were put on them."

"Are you sure there has to be something?" Tonks asked. "I don't think I ever tried getting in before I was on the team. Maybe the locker rooms are open to everyone in the house."

"I've tried the door of the Slytherin side without getting it to budge, so it isn't simply a matter of House membership. There has to be something that recognizes team membership and I don't know what that is. I know it exists, I can account for it, but I can't quantify it, which means when I make a pass I'm duplicating a lot of extraneous stuff as well."

"How many do you have completed?" Harry asked.

"Three," Allie said. "One for each house except Hufflepuff. But I can't guarantee that they'll actually work, Harry."

"Three people may be doable," Harry said.

Allie shook her head. "They're effectively team badges, Harry. Each has to be tied to one person. The bearers effectively becomes a member of that quidditch team, but that doesn't mean that the bearers can violate the wizard/witch barrier.

"What about Polyjuice?" Padma asked.

"Polyjuice?" Harry asked.

"It's a potion," Cedric said. "I don't recall the potion being discussed until second year."

"It was used as an example of a potion that requires the addition of a body part—bit of hair, a fingernail, something like that—to become effective," Padma told him. "I looked it up."

"For those of us who aren't Hermione, what does it do?" Parvati asked. Her sister glowered at her.

"It lets the drinker assume the appearance of one person for one hour per dose," Tonks spoke up. "The recipe is complicated, but straightforward—"

"And it takes a month to brew," Allie finished.

"But we don't really need it do we?" Harry asked, "after all, we have Tonks."

"Why do I suddenly feel nervous?" the seventh-year asked.

"What are you thinking of?" Cedric asked. "Tonks can't go in the guy's side locker rooms, and how would we keep someone from noticing a copy of a person walking around? Even in Hogwarts duplicating yourself isn't an everyday occurrence."

"We'd have to find a way to keep people from noticing anyway if we used poly-whatever," Padma said.

"We're over-thinking this," Justin said.

Everyone stopped and looked at him.

"Go on," Harry said.

"The locker rooms don't _have_ two exterior entrances," Justin said. "They have one, and then an entry room with two doors that split to the different sides. Just like the last room. Look," he gestured to the sketch of the Hufflepuff locker room they had been using for a reference, indicating the tiered-room with the model of the pitch, "See how it has one door leading from each half of the locker room and then _it _has the pitch-side entrance?

"If the only barriers are on the front and rear doors, then whoever has the badge just needs to get people into the entrance room at a time when the locker rooms are otherwise empty."

"We don't know if that's the case, Justin," Cedric said. "As far as I know nobody from one House has been inside another House's team locker room, or, for that matter, that anyone _not_ on the team has been in one. For all we know there could be a ward or something to alert the teachers if someone from another House wandered into our team's locker room."

"We can test that ourselves," Harry said. "I can try letting Ernie and Justin in to show them around, and if that works and nothing happens I can try showing Allie. If nothing happens then we know the badge is only needed to get past the outer doors."

"And if something does happen?" Cedric asked.

"Then he was showing us around," Ernie said with a shrug. "Everyone knows that he's friends with us, and with Allie."

"Except that Allie is a girl," Tonks said.

"Oh," Ernie said as Harry grimaced. Then he went on and voiced what Harry had only thought, "Yeah, I forgot about that. Sorry."

"No problem," Allie said dryly. "I think Ernie's on to something. Still, we should probably test it. Tonks?"

"Not much choice, is there?" the older teen asked. "I'll sneak you in. If anyone shows up I'll just say that I was checking to see if there was a ward or something that would keep the Weasley twins out."

"You think that's enough?" Cedric asked.

"I'm a Slytherin, remember? We don't do anything for just one reason," Allie said. "The Slytherins don't let girls play on their team. I can tell Professor Sprout I was thinking of transferring houses next year so that I could try out and that I wanted a look at one of the locker rooms first. She'll eat up the whole discrimination thing and it'll tweak Professor Snape's nose which isn't a bad thing. Hopefully they'd be too distracted to remember that brooms make me ill."

"They do?" Harry asked.

"You should have seen her at our first broom lessons," Parvati said. "She looked sick just standing by them, and when Neville took off early and then crashed…" she snickered.

"That's because I know better than you about what charms go into a broom to make it flight-capable," Allie said.

"What if Professor Sprout makes Snape open up the team?" Padma asked.

"Nothing requires the Captains to pick girls and they're the ones who make the final call on players," Tonks said slowly. "The Head of House, or Headmaster, can ban someone from playing, but they can't force anyone on the Captains."

"And I overheard Flint, he's the captain, discussing strategy," Allie told the seventh year. "He plans to foul heavily and knock the other team out of the game…literally. He figures if they're down enough players he can eat the penalty points and then milk it for a really high score. That way even if he only wins once he'll have racked up enough points to win the Quidditch cup. Even if I liked the game I wouldn't play with someone with a strategy like that."

"So Justin and Ernie and I test Hufflepuff for non-team members," Harry said, "And then Tonks and Allie for the cross-house thing. That should tell us if this'll even work and how quickly someone will respond to their being a member of a different house in a locker room."

"What about the others?" Justin asked.

"What do you mean?" Cedric asked.

"Well, let's say this works. You can use your position on the team to let all of us into the Hufflepuff locker-room. And let's say that Allie's badges work. No offense, but until they do—"

Allie waved it away.

"Right, but if they work it'll only take one, maybe two if they require a girl to let in the other girls, person to let in the rest of us. So I guess my question is how do we keep anyone from the Gryffindor or Slytherin teams from walking in while we're in mid-prank?" Justin asked. "If the badges work and Tonks and Ced—or whoever has them—can let us in, then Tonks doesn't really need to do her person-impression, right?"

"Well," Tonks said. "I was thinking that I could appear to be one of the Gryff Chasers to see that the inside was clear." She grimaced, "of course, if someone saw and put one and one together and wound up with two Alicia Spinnets walking around…"

"Look," Ernie said pragmatically. "Let's keep this simple. If we have the…locker-room passes, I suppose, and they can let us in, then there is no need to replace someone to get us in. We test that first. If it does then that's that."

"Fair enough," Harry said. "Keep going, Ernie."

"Well…" the Hufflepuff scratched his head. "Assuming the passes do work there is the question of when we do it. If we do it Tonks' way we'll need to do something with the real Alicia Spinnet or whoever Tonks replaces, _and_ do something so that what she remembers and what everyone else remembers matches up."

"I won't be a party to anything that involves memory modification," Allie said flatly. "If you want to drug one of the Chasers with a sleeping potion, or spike the punch at the Gryffs next party with a potion that has them hallucinating little pink elephants, fine. But no memory-mods."

"I was just pointing out that it was impractical," Ernie said, taken aback by the Slytherin's vehemence.

He wasn't the only one. Parvati and Padma had obviously heard Allie's views on the topic before, but Harry and the older students were all taken aback by the outburst.

"So I was thinking," Ernie said cautiously, not taking his eyes off of Allie, "Either we sneak out of the castle at night when everyone is asleep, or we do it during the day. In the second case, as Tonks pointed out, the best time would probably be when the team is at practice, as it is really the only time we can be sure we won't be walked in on, or chance walking in one somebody."

"Day," Parvati said. "I don't much care for sneaking out of the castle at night."

Several of the others nodded in agreement.

"We may need a distraction to keep people from noticing us," Parvati continued.

"We can stick Peeves on that if nothing else," her sister shrugged it off.

"There are a lot of 'ifs' with this plan," Allie noted. "If the badges work. If the locker-rooms will allow people not on a team in. If the locker-rooms will allow people from other houses in. If we can get into the locker-rooms without being noticed."

"Do you have a better idea?" Justin asked.

Allie frowned at him. "No."

It was a plan, Harry thought. Not a great one, and Allie had a point, but it was a plan.

They just needed one thing.

"So, if Justin's idea is out, what do we do for a prank?" he asked.

He looked around the room expectantly.

"Well," Cedric said, "I've found this hair-coloring stuff. You work this powder into your hair when showering and your hair changes colors as soon as your hair dries. It's temporary, the effects last about two days. The shower heads in the locker rooms screw off. I was thinking we could just put the powder in them and then thread them back on. If we do it before or during the morning/afternoon practice sessions the day before the game…"

"They'll both have it," Tonks said. "Those practices are scheduled too closely together for either side to notice what happened to the other."

And now they had a prank to go with the plan…

\|/\|/\|/

Despite the amount of time that schoolwork, quidditch training, and hanging out in the Tower of Turmoil plotting Operation Quidditch Quip, Harry still found time to spend with Ron and Hermione.

This was no small thing. Harry quickly discovered that Ron had an encyclopedic memory where anything remotely involving Quidditch was concerned. As much help as it was for him—after swearing both to silence about the truth of his having to 'help Filch around the castle'—to prepare, the boys had almost as much fun watching it drive Hermione to distraction. To her way of thinking Ron had proven that he had the mind necessary to be a superior student, if only he would apply himself.

But as funny as Harry had found it when Hermione had gone after Ron, he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she was tracking all of her year-mates' grades. No sooner had she finished with Ron than she had turned on him, and let him know that the dip his grades had taken over the previous few weeks had not escaped notice. It had taken him and Ron no small effort, and frequently mentioning the 'extra work' that Professor Sprout had assigned him, but in the end they managed to convince her not to go to Professor Sprout about 'easing his workload'.

And so for a few hours three nights a week, Harry met up with Hermione, and often Ron, in the library where she would help them with charms and transfiguration homework. She wouldn't tell him, or Ron, the answers or let them copy from her, but by asking her to check what they had written they ended up with the right answers anyway.

One time they met up at the same time as Padma and Allie and Harry suggested that they work together. It was an experience that had ended with Ron arguing with Allie, while Hermione, Padma and Allie got into a shouting match that lasted until Madam Pince kicked them all out of the library.

It was after this that Harry had brought a fuming Hermione and equally angry Ron to an unused classroom and shown both how to light a candle without a wand. Ron struggled with what he called 'impossibly hard wandless magic', but Hermione had proved herself equal to the task, even once, she had told him a week later, managing to absent-mindedly light a candle one evening as the setting sun robbed her of natural lighting.

There were problems, of course. Harry had thought that having friends was great, and it was. But after not having any growing up at #4, the amount of _work_ a friendship took—let alone nearly a dozen of them—came as a complete surprise.. Ron, for example, flatly refused to have anything to do with Allie; and despite Parvati telling Harry about Hermione on Halloween, the two Gryffindor girls didn't really have any interests in common. Unlike Ron, Hermione didn't seem to despise Allie, although she admitted only reluctantly that 'that Slytherin girl' would make 'an acceptable potions tutor'.

\|/\|/\|/:

Minerva McGonagall entered the staff lounge followed closely by Severus Snape, his robes billowing behind him. He closed the door, then swept across the room towards his customary seat.

"Ahh, Severus, so you were able to make it after all," Albus said. "Your last missive said it was most unlikely."

Severus turned to address him as he crossed the room, when he did a very un-Severus thing. He stumbled.

Albus quickly stood as the Potion Master caught himself, then slowly sank into the large, black leather chair he favored.

"Severus?" Albus asked.

"Some particularly…clever student," Severus said waving the concern away, "a derivative of a tripping jinx…comes and goes." He gave a particularly menacing smile. "I foresee the rendering of fresh squid in the near future. And possibly horned toads as well, perhaps slugs…"

"Whatever do you do with all the potion ingredients you have students in your detentions prepare?" Filius asked.

Severus glanced at him. "They go into the medicinal drafts that our resident medi-witch insists on pouring down the imbeciles' throats. I would have them _brew_ the potions for detentions but it would be much too difficult for half and I wouldn't want to be blamed for poisoning anyone unfortunate to be dosed with a draught produced by the rest."

"Severus," Albus chided.

Severus glowered at him but didn't say anything more.

"We were nearly done," Minerva said tightly.

A great stickler for punctuality, well, so was Severus and he _was_ late, Albus told himself.

"Perhaps, Severus, if you would care to enlighten us as to the progress of your own classes?" Minerva asked. Albus winced, why she would occasionally bait Severus like this he didn't know, but it never ended well.

"They are continuing apace," Severus said coldly.

Albus blinked, that was it?

Apparently Severus picked up on the surprise because he sneered at the other teachers.

"What more do you wish me to say? Must I repeat myself? Ms. Blackthorn has successfully kept Mr. Longbottom from blowing up any more cauldrons, but is otherwise wasted in a first-year potions class. Mr. Longbottom, should not be allowed anywhere within fifty feet of a cauldron. Mr. Potter, of course, believes he knows everything and thus doesn't actually have to do any work. Ms. Granger is an insufferable know-it-all, and lately Ms. Patil, the Ravenclaw one, seems intent on competing for which is the _most_ insufferable know-it-all."

"I wouldn't call it that," Filius spoke up, "though I have noticed that both are pushing themselves much harder than they have in past classes."

"It could be that they have simply needed some time to adjust to the course-work," Pomona said.

"Nearly two and a half _months_ to adjust?" Severus questioned. "No. They are competing. I just know it. And I am almost certain, but do not yet have proof, that Potter has put them up to it."

"Really, Severus?" Pomona asked sharply. "You seem to think Harry is responsible for every bit of mischief that's happened in the last two months!"

Severus ignored her and continued in a dust-dry voice, "Mr. d'Aiglemort has successfully turned every potion he has attempted thus far this year into a poison. And given the inexplicable drops in my stocks of certain ingredients, someone is experimenting with proscribed potions. Should any student appear with unexplained giddiness and rose-smelling flatulence, please inform them that they have seven hours from the time they first imbibed to see Madam Pomfrey or face a lifetime of incompetence, incontinence, and impotence."

"And you are only just bringing this to our attention, Severus?" Minerva asked.

"My potion stocks are _always_ being pilfered, Minerva," Severus said. "Just be thankful that no bezoars are disappearing this time…so far. Why someone would voluntarily dose themselves with poisons I have no idea, though I can think of a fair number that _I_ would voluntarily dose—"

"Severus, that's enough," Albus said mildly. Yes, Severus' concerns about the possibility of the potions being made were real, but the same ingredients could have been used to make more a dozen different common potions when combined with the contents of the average student's personal supplies, none of which had any deleterious effects. "Have you been keeping an eye on Ms. Thorne?"

Severus glowered at him. "Of _course_ I have been 'keeping an eye' on Ms. Blackthorn. She has not deprived any more of her fellow students of their sight, if that is what you mean. In fact, she has isolated herself quite effectively from the rest of Slytherin."

"Indeed?" Albus asked. "Given her family I would have thought young Mister Malfoy would have been quick to proclaim his friendship."

"Indeed his was," Severus said. "And if every first, second and third words out of his mouth hadn't been respectively 'my father thinks' or 'my father says', she might very well have taken him up on it. As it is, she has taken to spending large periods of time outside of the Slytherin common room. Much of it seems to be spent with Ms. Patil of Ravenclaw in a desperate attempt to bring her other class-work up to an Acceptable level. Her wand-work leaves as much to be desired as Mr. Longbottom's brewing skills. However, not all of her time can be accounted for."

"Have you tried tracking charms?" Albus asked.

"Oh yes," Severus said. "Did you know that she frequently takes salt-water baths and scrubs regularly with loadstones? Her personal security is amazing. She may not have the wand-skills to perform successful counter-spells, and she knows it otherwise we would never have _needed_ her…charming presence, but her knowledge of classical counter-magic is extensive. The Weasley twins have taught her to be careful of her food and drink, and unlike some persons she even understands the importance of properly disposing of loose hairs and fingernail clippings."

Albus frowned and stroked his beard. Harry was making friends across the houses, which was good, but one Alice Hawthorne/Allison Boxthorn/Elissa Blackthorn running around his school unsupervised was not. "Redouble your efforts, Severus. I will release to you the portraits and statues to help you track her movements, and _her_ movements only."

"Albus, do you really think that is necessary?"

"Yes, Filius, I do," Albus replied.

The diminutive charms instructor frowned at him. "I admit her casting skills leave a great deal to be desired, but her grasp of theory is excellent, well advanced of her year-mates. Whatever problems she may have had in the past I've seen no sign of them now."

"There are other issues, Filius," Albus said. "All of you know the very real power the Thorne family wields. A person with her Talent at the head of that family would be bad enough, especially should Voldemort return. Having one such as her at his bidding, and a fully trained witch as well, could well make him unstoppable."

Stark silence greeted this.

Finally, Minerva looked up at him and said in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice said, "I've seen no sign that she…sympathizes with You-Know-Who or his followers."

"Would you have seen such signs were they there, Minerva?" Albus asked gently.

"Many of them were able to fool a great many people," Severus sneered.

"That assumes, of course, that He does return," Filius said. He quickly continued before Albus could respond. "It also assumes that He does not kill her out of hand. You-Know-Who is not one to tolerate a rival, Severus."

"The man is not a fool, Filius, nor is he so wasteful to kill a potential ally out of hand. He will attempt to elicit her aid first, and kill her only if she proves untrustworthy or uncontrollable. In this Albus is correct, having her on his side is more than bad enough, the idea of her being a fully trained witch as well is…terrifying."

"Some would say he was terrifying already," Minerva said.

"Then they are fools," Severus said, "because the truth of the Dark Lord's potential was so much worse than the horrors he inflicted upon the world last time."

"Severus, please," Albus sighed. Sometimes these staff meetings felt like he was a professor again, trying to control his fifth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin Double Transfiguration class. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as the Wizengamot.

It was a good sign, or at least he hoped it was, that she hadn't made friends with the children of the other Death Eaters. But then, as Severus had pointed out, nobody had suspected Black or Rookwood of following him either. The one had been a close friend of the Potters and an important member of the Order, while the other was a brilliant researcher in the Department of Mysteries.

At the same time her relative lack of friendships was…worrying. Tom Riddle had been a brilliant young mind that had gone without apparent friends for several years. Her relationship with Padma Patil seemed to concentrate solely on improving her grades, especially in Transfiguration and Charms. She had also been spending much less time with Harry, had even stopped regularly eating at the Hufflepuff table. _That_ should have made him feel relieved, that it didn't was…worrying, and if Albus had been just a touch more paranoid he would have suspected her of arranging the entire incident at the zoo just to get into Hogwarts, but that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

Albus frowned in sudden thought. The vanished glass in the snake display had all the magical characteristics of a burst of accidental magic. The attempt to thwart his tracking charms on Harry was consistent with her behavior so far in Hogwarts. Chirag, of course, was one of the leaders in muggle/magical real estate business which made her connection to him logical. Minerva, unfortunately, seemed to have had a point where the Dursleys were concerned, and under those circumstances, a young man attaching himself to the first person to explain about his heritage was…understandable.

It really came back to the zoo. He couldn't see a reason for her being there aside from the same reason any other person would visit the zoo. That Harry had been there was purely coincidence. It had to be. Whatever her magics might be, Ms. Thorne was not capable of sending one muggle on vacation and bewitching another (and in doing so, managed to avoid triggering any of the wards for a magical attack against the Dursleys) to run over the leg of the very woman he had watching them. Especially Mrs. Figg. The old lady was not on the floo and didn't use Owls. Their method of communication was entirely secure. Identifying her from outside simply wasn't possible, and less than five people knew who she was, where she was, and why she was there.

Three times already the doorway to the Forbidden Corridor had been breached. The most recent by Severus on Halloween. The second had been late at night just after a magical surge in the Great Hall. Argus had reported chasing students down several corridors, including one that led to the Forbidden Corridor which was also where the person or persons had successfully eluded the caretaker. The third, actually the first to occur, they knew even less about.

He had carefully searched the Great Hall the morning of the second breach, but aside from some chalk dust and the faint odor of ritual magic, had found little. Only after the Weasley twins had pranked the staff had he gone back and found the trace magic of keyed runes and switching spells. There were only a handful of people in the castle with any practical knowledge of ritual magic, but only one who had also been repeatedly pranked by the Weasley twins.

It was a brilliant move, a series of small distractions to keep away the Prefect patrols while the distraction for the staff was set up. Then the magic surge in the Great Hall that had brought almost the entire staff racing down in the middle of the night, leaving the path to the Stone free except for the traps and one Argus Filch.

"Headmaster?"

"A moment, Minerva," he said, taken aback by the sudden clarity of thought.

She had to have had help. Enlisted students to set up her prank/distraction in the same way she had used Harry to get into the school. The first time his own preparations must have caught her off guard. The third, again a distraction, this time using poor Quirrell, only prevented by Severus. Help would have been needed to arrange the initial meeting between her and Harry. More help would have been required to supply the troll as she certainly would not have had any opportunity to have left the castle. Someone had clearly been thinking ahead because the meeting with Harry had happened well before the attempted break in at Gringotts.

He briefly wondered what her price had been. Not the Stone itself, she had access to far more permanent methods of extending her life, methods not dependant upon continued access to an artifact such as the Stone. But really it didn't matter. What mattered was whether or not she had any confederates in Hogwarts and for that tracking her movements had become vitally important.

A brief tremor in the wards alerted him to an owl from the Ministry of Magic that had just flown through his office window.

He looked up at his professors, noting that Severus had left sometime while he was contemplating Ms. Thorne. He dimly recalled the Head of Slytherin saying that there really was a potion that he could not leave alone for long before taking his leave.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, standing. "We'll meet again next week, but until that time I would ask that you all keep an eye on Ms. Thorne, not so close that she notices, but a close one all the same."

If any of his professors were put out by his ending the weekly staff meeting short they didn't show it.

"Pomona," he continued, "if you could continue to keep an eye on Harry? I know you make yourself available to all of your badgers, but perhaps if you would let him know personally that you are available if he needs to talk?"

"Of course, Albus," the dumpy Herbology professor said.

"Filius, Minerva, if you could keep an eye on Mr. Dempsey and Ms. Lewis? It isn't my policy to interfere in matters of the heart, but that particular relationship seems headed for a rather spectacular self-destruction, and it _is_ their N.E.W.T. year after all."

They nodded. Minerva's short, tight, while Filius' was more of a wary bob.

"Excellent," he said. "In that case I think we can—"

The door flew open and Severus Snape swept into the staff lounge, his robes billowing behind him. The Professors, already leaving, stopped as he made his appearance.

"Is there a problem, Severus?" Albus asked in concern as the Potion Master swept towards his customary chair.

Severus turned to address him as he crossed the room, when he did a very un-Severus thing. He stumbled…again.

Albust watched as the Potion Master caught himself, then slowly sank into the large, black leather chair he favored.

"Severus?" he repeated.

"Some particularly…clever student," Severus said waving the concern away, "a derivative of a tripping jinx…comes and goes." He gave a particularly menacing smile. "I foresee the rendering of fresh squid in the near future."

\|/\|/\|/

The first Saturday of the month was a cold day. The kind with no wind so the cold seeped into one's bones instead of being driven in by slashing wind. It lent a crystal-like quality to the air, giving the fourteen players clustered near the center of the pitch a kind of razor-like sharpness as Harry watched through borrowed binoculars. The seats were raised high in the air, but Cedric had warned him that the action could be hard to follow sometimes.

The rest of the team was out as well. They had complicated books filled with plays that they could tap and modify as needed with quick whispered words, and large note pads with dictat-o-quills. Learning how to scout other teams, to note down their plays, their strengths, and their weaknesses, would come later, Thrace had told him. For now she just wanted him to see a real game of Quidditch and to keep an eye on the Seekers, and had sent along Cedric to help explain things to him.

Madam Hooch, who refereed the inter-House Quidditch games as well as taught flying and broommanship—set a chest on the ground. She pushed a button and the straps holding down the bludgers snapped free and the two heavy spheres rocketed into the air.

"Are the game bludgers special too?" he asked.

"How do you mean?" Cedric asked.

"They aren't attacking people," Harry said.

"Oh," Cedric said. "Yeah, game bludgers don't do that until the quaffle is released. The ones we use for practice aren't supposed to either, but that charm usually only lasts a year or two. Something about how the bludgers are constructed, I think."

"What are the teams like?" Harry asked, shifting his binoculars to the players.

"The Weasley twins are der finest set ah Beaters Hogwarts has seen inna good long while," Hagrid said from his other side. "And Oliver Wood is der best Keepers in der school."

Cedric had looked askance at the groundskeeper when he had settled in next to Harry. For his part, Harry felt obligated to invite who had invited him to afternoon tea on Fridays and had been grateful when each had discovered the other was a fellow Enthusiast of the Game of Warlocks.

Now Cedric just said. "Huxley, the Eagles reserve—" each House team took its name from its House mascot, but, Harry had quickly learned, only the die-hard fans referred to the teams as anything other than their House, "—was pretty good against the Serpents (officially the Slytherin mascot was a snake, not a serpent, but its team was officially named the Serpents which contradicted the rule that the House teams took their names from the House mascot) last year. It'll be interesting to watch him Keep against Wood next year. The Lions' Seeker is brand-new though, and their Chaser line-up is untested. Spinnet was a reserve last year and Katie Bell is new to the team this year."

Madam Hooch released the snitch and it went off into the air.

"That was a ruddy good prank this morning," Hagrid said.

Harry focused his binoculars on the Gryffindor Keeper's scarlet and gold hair. "Do you think so?" he asked.

That they were resorting to dying hair had bothered him. The Weasley twins had already used it, and they had used it on Professor Snape. He hadn't been able to come up with a better idea, however, so had let it go.

"Showed spirit," Hagrid said. "Love of the game. Gettin' only der players couldn' have been easy. Those letters, wishin' each team a good season and all that, those were real classy."

The letters had been a compromise between Cedric's wish to remain anonymous, and Tonks' desire to leave notes claiming responsibility inside each of the locker rooms. Padma had suggested the compromise of waiting until the morning of the game, and then sending each team a letter, and now it seemed, at least in Hagrid's opinion, that the letters had been even more successful than the prank itself.

Madam Hooch must have finished talking to the teams, because fifteen brooms rose into the air. She flung the quaffle up as she gave a long blast of her whistle.

"And the quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson…"

\|/\|/\|/

The Tuesday afternoon after the Gryffindor/Slytherin game, Harry was hurrying across the Entrance Hall when Ron stopped him.

"Do you have a moment?" the Gryffindor asked.

Harry did not have a moment. His last class of the day was in History of Magic, and not only was he lethargic from the class, but it was on the opposite side of the school from the Quidditch Pitch. With less than two weeks to go before the first Hufflepuff game against Ravenclaw, Thrace had taken to booking the Quidditch whenever she could bully the team into being together even if it meant making things difficult for some members. It was even harder for Harry because of his need to be discreet about his presence on the team which, Parvati had told him, the school gossip network still hadn't gotten wind of.

Instead of telling Ron all of this he simply nodded his head and allowed himself to be led into the side room they had waited in before being Sorted, and was, apparently, only ever used for that purpose. Hermione was already waiting there.

"So what's the problem?" Harry asked.

"Ron, tell him what you told me," Hermione instructed.

"Hermione got her hands on one of the library copies of _Quidditch Through the Ages_," Ron said.

Harry looked at her. To the best of his knowledge the only time Madam Pince ever saw them was during the summer, though nobody he'd talked to had admitted to ever seeing a Hogwarts' copy of the book…at least, not until now. Hermione studiously avoided looking at him.

"The thing is, we were outside the other day and he took the book from us, said that it was against the rules to have a library book outside."

"It was nonsense, of course," Hermione said quickly. "Professor Snape blatantly favors his House and was looking for a reason to take points."

"Okay," Harry said. "So he took points."

"And the book," Ron repeated. "But I went back yesterday, to try and get him to give the book back, and he had his robes up and I could see a large and nasty-looking bite on his leg. Then I remembered what you told me on Halloween, how you thought he was heading towards the third corridor, and Hermione—"

"I told him about running into you that night, and how we ended up in the Forbidden Corridor," Hermione said.

"Right," Ron said. "And you remember when we went to Hagrid's for tea that first Friday after classes? You told me that one of Gringotts' vaults was robbed the day you went there."

"And?" Harry asked carefully, for he was pretty sure he had _not_ told Ron about what Hagrid had said about being on business for Dumbledore.

"And," Hermione took a deep breath. "What if Hagrid had been sent there to empty that vault? I checked a back-issue of the Daily Prophet and the article said that the vault, a high-security vault, had been emptied earlier that day. Given its age it'd be logical that Hogwarts would have some kind of place to store precious things that couldn't be left in the open, relics of the founders or magical artifacts or something. If he did, I'm almost certain it was brought here to protect it from whoever broke into Gringotts. And if that's what happened then the logical place for it would be behind additional protections."

"Such as a giant three-headed dog in the third-floor corridor on the left-hand side," Harry finished. "And you think Snape is after it, whatever it is."

"Yes," Hermione said flatly. "What do you think?"

It made a frightening amount of sense. Cedric had seen Snape go in, but had been forced to leave before he saw the Professor come out. It was also possible that the same idea that had occurred to Harry and also occurred to Snape and he had gone to protect it. The problem with that idea was that Harry couldn't think of anyone else who seemed like a likely choice for criminal mastermind.

"Okay," Harry said. "Hagrid told us in Diagon Alley that he was there on Dumbledore's orders to retrieve something from the same vault that was reported broken into, so I think Hermione's probably right about it being here. As for Snape…I just don't know. What if he had thought that the troll was a distraction and had gone up to guard it, but didn't know about the dog?"

"I suppose," Hermione said. "Each of the Professors could have contributed to its defense, which is what _I_ would have done if I were Dumbledore and needed to keep something extra safe. I also wouldn't have let them know what the other teachers are providing.

"That wizard with the fake leg and arm who sits at the head table is Professor Kettleburn. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures, a third-year elective. He could have provided the dog, though my understanding is that he's partial to animals that are highly venomous or spit fire."

"Oh come on," Ron said. "It has to be Snape. Who else would it be? P-P-Professor Q-Quirrell?"

Hermione snorted and Harry had to chuckle at the accuracy of Ron's impression.

"No, I agree that Snape is the most likely person," Harry said. "I'll even say that I can't think of anyone else. But unless we know for sure, and have some way of proving it, the teachers aren't going to believe us. Are they?"

Well, Professor Sprout might, but without something more even she wouldn't be able to do anything without alerting Snape.

Hermione looked crestfallen, but Ron nodded grimly.

"So what do we do?" the other boy asked Harry.

"For now I suppose we just have to keep our eyes open," Harry said.

\|/\|/\|/

"Most of you have been on this team for a while so you know I'm not one for speechifying," Thrace said. "Since this is my last season, however, I figure I'm entitled."

There were chuckles from a couple of the others, but Harry was watching raptly.

"We've got a good team this year. A solid group of beaters, a dependable keeper, and a surprising new talent at seaker."

"Oi, what am I, chopped liver?" Tonks asked.

"And we have Tonks who's prepared to get them called on Tomplaring."

Tomplaring was either for using an inappropriate conveyance (carpets, rugs, and vacuum cleaners were all popular fouls), or having too many players in the air, Harry wasn't sure which but considering it was Tonks it could well be both. Or maybe Tomplaring was impersonating a person on another team?

"Just so long as it isn't Scruppeling," Cedric said.

Unlike Tomplaring, Harry recognized Scruppeling as the general-purpose foul for unsportswizardlike conduct. It was used only when another penalty wasn't suitable, but unless a team had seriously annoyed the referee it was almost as rarely heard as the one involving tar, feathers, and avian-based attraction charms…or, for that matter, the one for going after the opposing keeper with a broadsword.

Thrace looked around the room as though daring anyone else to add a comment. "Right then," she said firmly. "I want a good clean game. That said, I want us to seize control and keep it. Chasers, quarter the quaffle. Mort, Casper, bracket those bludgers and don't let them go. Fred, remember the new techniques we've developed for getting the quaffle back into play. Harry, I want you to stay above the action and keep an eye out for the snitch. I want you to have a good solid game under your robes before you try anything fancy. Understood?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Any questions? No? Outstanding," Thrace said. "Let's go."

The rest of the team, with Harry in the center to hold off the surprise a little longer, followed her out the team doors onto the pitch. The stands burst into applause and Harry felt his face heat at all of the people staring down at him.

"You're all right, aren't you?" Cedric asked.

"Fine," Harry managed. "Just, uh…does it seem warm to you?"

"It's mid-November," Cedric said dryly. "I'd hardly consider it warm." He paused and looked around the pitch. "Although now that you mention it, the crowd does seem a bit more enthusiastic than I remember from last year's." He cleared his throat, "nothing to worry about, Harry. That's just nerves. You'll settle down once you get in the air. We all do on our first game…" he paused, as though remembering something, "except for Wood."

"Oliver Wood? The Gryffindor Captain and Keeper?"

Cedric nodded. "He had been in the youth league—we both were—but he had been in the reserves and I never saw him play until my first year. I'll never forget it, it was the first Hogwarts game I ever saw, you see? He caught a bludger to the head about five minutes in, woke up a week later in the hospital wing. Don't worry, Harry, Hogwarts—

"Has a _fine_ medi-witch!" they both finished together.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry used a combination figure-8/racetrack holding pattern that Cedric had taught him as he flew up and down the length of the pitch from well above most of the action. This particular pattern allowed him to survey the pitch from all directions once every circuit and a half, and by allowing him a choice at every leg—straight up the side or across at the angle—prevented the opposing Seeker from marking him at a distance.

The opposing Seeker, a tallish sixth-year boy with dark hair and the bristly beginnings of a mustache, had started with a spiral-search, starting low near the ground in the center of the pitch and increasing his altitude as he flew wider and wider circles. This had continued until Mort had sent one-too-many bludgers at him, and now he was settled down a little below Harry into a racetrack of his own with a sideways loop out and over the center of the pitch on the straightaways that could be left unfinished to reverse his direction.

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was apparently the official announcer of Hogwarts because he was calling the action for this game as well, though with much less of the outbursts that had been a part of the first game.

"Capper's really pulled a fast one on us this year. Ravenclaw was obviously expecting a rebuilding team this year as Hufflepuff trains up replacements for next year. Instead Diggory's back as Chaser, a post he gave up two years ago to play Seeker, and paired with Capper and Tonks, present one of the most experience Chaser squads in the school. In fact her entire lineup has been shuffled, and the person responsible is no less than Harry Potter.

"Ladies and Germs—"

"Jordan!"

"—I have personally checked the records, and no first year has suited up for a Hogwarts game in a century, and the last who actually _started_ a game graduated before our esteemed Headmaster entered school.

"So the quaffle's taken by Capper side toss to Tonks who over-the-shoulder's it to-_no_, it's a bump pass off Diggory's shaft back to Capper as Michelson nearly takes a bludger to the face from Montgomery and the game's on in earnest. Capper ducks under Buchner and then flips it to Tonks. Capper-Tonks-Capper who heaves it up—I'm not sure where she's going with this, no friendly chasers there and a bludger coming at her—Capper barrel-rolls around the bludger and pulls up into a cobra-head-break just in front of Danvers who has to dive to avoid the collision. The quaffle drops neatly back into Cappers' arms and she flips it to Diggory as he flies by.

"Diggory, Diggory taking up the pitch with Buchner in pursuit, throws—_blocked_! Blocked by Ravenclaw Keeper Laveran. Michelson fields the return outside of the scoring zone as Tonks has to scramble to avoid a bludger sent her way by Moneta. And now it's Michelson up the field. Michelson to Buchner—intercepted by Diggory, Diggory who rolls to avoid a bludger, then dives under a chaser, a nice play up off the pitch, almost flying in the grass—Diggory crosses into the scoring area almost flying up Keeper Laveran's robes and—_SCORE!_

"The score is ten-zero Badgers and now comes Ravenclaw's answer as Michelson takes the quaffle again."

Hufflepuff cheers filled the stadium, joined by a fair number of Gryffindors who appreciated a well-played game of Quidditch. The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game was usually well-enjoyed contest between the Ravenclaw's technical expertise and Hufflepuff's sportsmanship, without the bitter rivalry of the season opener or the desperate struggles that dominated the games of the later part of the quidditch season. Only the Slytherins booed loudly, and that was more because the Gryffindors had cheered than the actual game being played.

"Budge up there, can yeh move a bit?"

"Hagrid!" Ron said as he, Hermione, and Parvati squeezed over for the groundskeeper. The three Gyrffindor friends of Harry Potter had been invited by Justin to watch the game from the Hufflepuff section to the somewhat askance looks from his housemates—the common room was one thing, but _Quidditch_ stands were sacrosanct—but who had been too polite to say anything.

Padma had also been invited despite being in Ravenclaw, but she had declined before any of Justin's housemates needed to see Madam Pomfrey for complications of holding their tongues. Likewise Allie was missing, an absence that had nearly resulted in an argument between Ron and Justin when the latter had told the Gryffindor he was going to invite her.

"Ah bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting a pair of binoculars that Ron doubted he could have even lifted, much less used.

"It's not the same as being in the crowd," Ron said, recalling a Cannons game he had once watched from a field while listening to the distant roars from the stadium.

"No, it isn'," Hagrid agreed. "No sign of the snitch yet, eh?"

"No."

"Well he's keepin' outta trouble," Hagrid said. "That's somethin'."

Up above Harry lazily reversed his direction and continued his search for the snitch. Thrace had been adamant about him not taking any risks. His inclusion had thrown Ravenclaw into disorder from the way their entire lineup had been shuffled, but Gryffindor and Slytherin would adapt to it. It was imperative that he reserve his more active participation for those games, and instead concentrate on finding the snitch and keeping away from the injury-prone flight patterns dominated by the bludgers.

So instead of being in the thick of action he had contented himself with doing a few loops when Cedric scored. Once a bludger had come his way and Harry had been forced to dodge it before Casper Adams showed up and sent it after Renault while the opposing beater was trying to attack Tonks.

"Ravenclaw in possession, Buchner passes to Michelson and blocks Capper. Michelson with the quaffle, dodges two bludgers, two Beaters, and Diggory and—wait a moment, was that the snitch?"

Kipling, the Ravenclaw Seeker, was already diving for a streak of gold past the lead Ravenclaw Chaser's right ear. Harry rolled his broom until he was nearly upside down and then pulled 'up'. He had discovered during practice that by keeping the broom on the outside of the turn, not only could he turn more sharply at faster speeds, but that the momentum helped hold him on the broom so that he could have an arm free to catch the snitch. At the higher speeds his broom was capable of, he was less confident of his ability to fly one-handed while in a normal turn.

The older boy was inside Harry's turn, his slower speed allowing him to cut the turn even more sharply, but Harry was going so fast that they were neck and neck by the time they leveled out and Harry was forced to slow less he whip right past the little golden sphere. The Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing, and Harry was only vaguely aware of Jordan calling out his name.

Kipling braked suddenly and Harry glanced back only to nearly run into the backsides of the other two Ravenclaw Chasers as they dropped into a side-by-side formation right in front of him. Harry jerked his broom to the right to swoop around them, but they angled right as well to avoid Tonks, then started up at the same time as him. He dove sharply and was at last able to edge around them, but the snitch had been lost and then something that felt similar to Dudley with a cricket bat hit him in the side.

"Harry!" Thrace called as Harry pulled his broom skyward with his right hand while cradling his ribs with his left hand. She hand-signaled to Hooch who blew her whistle.

"I'm fine!" Harry gasped.

"Are you sure?" Thrace asked him. She gave him a worried look, "I can have Ced take over and—"

"I'm fine," Harry repeated. "Really. It just…took me by surprise. Nothing's broken. It doesn't even hurt that badly." This wasn't entirely truthful. Nothing felt broken or cracked, but it did hurt a great deal. "I'll be fine."

Thrace gave him a look that suggested she didn't entirely believe him. "Fine, but you have to let me know if it becomes a problem."

"Sure," Harry said.

"And you're getting checked out by Madam Pomfrey after the match, and if she says anything is broken you really will be cleaning the castle for the rest of the year because you'll be off the team, understood?"

Harry couldn't tell if she was being serious or not, so he nodded mutely.

Thrace flew back towards the other chasers and waved to Madam Hooch who blew her whistle and the game was on again.

He did a couple of careful loops around the pitch to get back into the feel of things, and had just made the first turn into a snake-search pattern when his broom gave an awful lurch that ended with his stomach in his throat. Harry swallowed back the sudden nausea and tightened his grip on the Cleansweep. He'd never felt anything like that before.

It happened again. Harry pushed his broomstick's handle down. Thrace had been very clear on what to do if something ever went wrong in the air. Get the ground as quickly and safely as possible and sort it out there where there wasn't a chance of falling hundreds of feet. The Cleansweep lurched upwards a dozen feet or more, as though trying to buck him off. Which was, of course, impossible—mustangs might suddenly decide to buck their riders off, not enchanted broomsticks. The broomstick made a sudden sharp left jag and Harry realized that in the space of about three seconds he had completely lost control of the broom. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't make it dive. All he could do was hang on while it went zooming off across the pitch in a rapid zigzag while making violent swishing movements.

"Ravenclaw possession, M-formation, Moneta and Renault leading, bludger attack from the rear by Mortimer Montgomery and Casper Adams and the Ravenclaw beaters turn as the Chasers pass them. Buchner now, Buchner with the quaffle into a Hawkshead formation passes to Michelson—_score_!"

Harry could hear cheers from below, even from the Hufflepuff section for what must have been one of the technically challenging but perfectly executed plays that Thrace said the Ravenclaws were known for. He would have liked to have seen it, but his broom hadn't given him that option. It was no longer even allowing him the semblance of control as it carried him away from the game and higher into the air.

Staring through his binoculars, Hagrid muttered, "Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing. If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom…"

"Is that possible?" Justin asked.

Ernie shook his head. "Not that I've ever heard of. You, Ron?"

"No," Ron said, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched Harry. He wasn't the only one. A shout had gone up from somewhere below them and now people were starting to stand up and point out Harry's wildly flying broom. "Could the Slytherins have done something if they'd gotten a hold of it, Hagrid?" he asked, thinking of one Slytherin in particular.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "Can't nothin' interfere with a broomstick except power Dark magic. No kid could do that to a Cleansweep 6."

"Besides, Harry kept the broom in our dorm," Ernie said. "The Slytherins couldn't have gotten…" he paused and looked at Justin who had turned suddenly pale.

"What?" Hermione asked. When Ernie didn't reply she grabbed his robes. "You thought of something, what is it?"

"Ron may have a point…I'll explain later," Ernie managed in a hoarse voice.

Padma grabbed Hagrid's binoculars. They were so heavy she had trouble lifting them, and so large that she had to hold up one eyepiece and use it as a spotting scope, but people on the other side of the stadium were large and clear as she swept it over the crowd until she came to the Professor's Box and felt her blood congeal.

On his broom Harry was beginning to seriously contemplate letting go of the broomstick. While he hadn't heart Professor Hooch's whistle, the quidditch teams seemed to have suspended the game. But twice now when they had maneuvered below him to catch him if he fell, the stick had flown violently away from them. The second time the broom had violently attacked the Ravenclaw weak-side Chaser and succeeded in knocking him from his broom. The rescue attempt had been delayed due to the need to rescue the other falling boy.

They were starting to gather again. He wouldn't have much time. Whatever was controlling his broom was too good at what it did to allow them to get fully prepared. With this last thought Harry let go of his Cleansweep…

\|/\|/\|/

"He jumped," Thrace said. "That insane little fool _jumped!_ What could he be thinking…is he even thinking?" She cast a restraining spell to slow the falling seeker and missed. More spells came from the two beaters who had also carried their wands, but while they actually connected and slowed Harry, they didn't slow him much. Ideally they would have been around Harry's path and weaved a web of magic to catch him in, but his jump had taken them by surprise.

Cedric, who had been waiting above them, went into a sharp dive with the Ravenclaw Seeker. They had been marking Harry from above for just this moment and both dived after the falling student.

Thrace saw them coming and waved, the Hufflepuff Team falling back. The Ravenclaws, with a little extra time to get into position, were setting up a second try and catching Harry. She wanted to shout at them, to tear off after Cedric, but both were foolish. The first would only distract the other team and Ced was in better position and training for the type of insane maneuver they were going to attempt. No, she acknowledged sullenly, she was out of it. She'd made her play to rescue her teammate, it had failed, and now all she could do was wait.

She sighed angrily and looked around. Harry's broom, now that its rider was falling towards a grisly end, had stopped its made bucking and weaving and was hanging still in the air.

"Mort, Casper," she turned to Casper Adams and Mortimer Montgomery who really were as fine a pair of beaters as any, she thought. "Go after Harry's broom and…escort it back down. Use conjured puffs of wind. Don't use any magic on it, and for Merlin's sake, don't either of you _touch_ it."

"On it," Casper said with an unusually serious look on his face.

"We've got it, Skipper," his partner added.

Thrace turned and stared down at her falling Seeker and wondered what was taking the Headmaster so long.

\|/\|/\|/

The air rippled below Harry as the six Ravenclaws weaved together a veritable web of magic, like one of the old-time nets that firemen use to carry for people in high buildings to jump into that he had seen briefly one time on the telly before Dudley had noticed him watching and complained.

The center was clearly the strongest as the outer portions were still hazy and indistinct. Unfortunately it was off-center. Unless he missed his guess, Harry was going to land right on the weaker portion of the magical net, and while the other students were firming it up, it didn't look like they were going to be fast enough. He wondered briefly why they didn't just move the thing, but the logical answer was that they probably couldn't.

A blur of gold caught his eye.

He looked up to find the snitch buzzing along right in front of his nose.

Harry reached out to grab it, but it was just beyond his reach. Forgetting the impending disaster for a moment he tried to lunge for it, but without anything to push off of he didn't get very far. He lunged again, this time coiling his body first and then flinging out his arms and upper body. That moved him a little. He did it again and this time his fingers closed around the small golden ball.

"_Oof!_" Harry grunted as something exploded into his stomach. A bludger went off in search of another target as he reflexively curled around the injury, only to slam back-first into the web of magic. It didn't hurt quite as much as he anticipated hitting the ground would…and it hurt quite a bit more because he doubted that he'd feel much of anything after the impact with the ground.

He became aware of the figures above him. The _receding_ figures above him. The net hadn't held. The wind tore at his robes, spinning him, and suddenly he was unable to see.

"_Urk!_"

\|/\|/\|/

Cedric tried to tighten his grip with his knees, but the grip was already as tight as he could make it. His broomstick was pointed straight-down in a vertical dive, but he was lying back with his head in the bristles. It was the only position that had a flight geometry that would allow him to catch Harry, had him in a position where he actually could catch Harry, and in which he'd be able quickly change his direction of travel when he did catch Harry…if he caught Harry.

The entire situation was very strange. He'd have thought Dumbledore or one of the other Professors would have stepped in by now, but instead they seemed content on letting him and the others try to save Harry. And that didn't even begin to explain what had happened to Harry's broom. He had never heard of a broom going berserk like that before. Being transfigured into a watermelon, yes, or even charmed into a portkey once, back before the anti-portkey-charming-charm was developed specifically for International competition referee brooms. But for a broom to just suddenly flip out and try to throw off its rider?

That took some serious magic. Dark magic. Considerably darker and more powerful than anything he was familiar with…although, maybe if the spells were layered on over time and then activated all at once instead of just a single curse maybe…

He pushed the thought aside. He needed to concentrate on catching Harry who had just taken a bludger to the stomach before blowing through the Ravenclaw's attempts to create a magical safety net. It had been a clever bit of magic, he conceded, but they probably would have had more success with levitating charms or, perhaps, a summoning spell.

"Ready?" Kipling asked.

Cedric nodded once, and they drew level with Harry who was now struggling with his robes. He reached out, and simultaneously the two boys latched onto a convenient handful of robes. Cedric kick-snapped his broom level, grabbed the handle as it came up, and tried to pull skyward.

There was a ripping sound as Harry's robes began to give way.

Rudy nodded to him and Cedric released his handful of robe to grasp a flailing foot. The other boy let go and for a moment Harry dangled beneath him before Kipling was able to grab a hand.

The ground was rushing up but they were slowing and then a bludger made a reappearance. Kipling was knocked off balance and fell. For a moment Cedric was holding both boys up, then they hit the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, and broomsticks.

Everything turned grass-green and sky blue. Something was jammed into his hip, and there was something small and feathery tickling his ribs.

He looked up as something big and white, like a sick swan, was coming towards him. Then everything turned black.


	14. Chapter 14: No Unity Without Discord

**Chapter 14:** **No Unity without Discord**

"_So long as an opinion is strongly rooted in the feelings, I gains rather than loses in stability by having a preponderating weight of arguments against it."  
-_-John Stuart Mill-

\|/\|/\|/

Harry woke to find the cracked plaster ceiling of the Hospital Wing above him.

"Harry?" a voice asked.

"Hey, Harry's awake!"

Hermione, Ron, Ernie, and Justin quickly gathered around him.

"You won!" Ron announced.

"We did?" Harry asked.

"You caught the snitch," Ron said.

"But…" Harry frowned. "Didn't Madam Hooch blow the whistle? I thought she had called time out or something because of my broom malfunctioning."

Ron shook his head. "Nope, the game clock was still running. Forty-two minutes, thirteen seconds, not bad for a rookie Seeker."

"That's not fair," Harry said.

"What? The time?" Ron asked. "Perfectly fair. Kahn Cussion managed to catch the snitch thirty-five minutes into his first game, but you've only been flying for two months and he'd been on a broomstick for years before he became a fly-on Seeker for the Arrows."

"No, I mean about the game still going," Harry said, pushing himself up until he was sitting up.

"And where do you think you are going?" a stern voice asked as Madam Pomfrey swept between Ernie and Justin.

"I need to talk to Madam Hooch," Harry said. "Our victory wasn't fair. I need—"

"Ms. Capper and Mr. Laveran have already had this discussion with Madam Hooch, there will be no rematch," she said sternly. "Morgana only knows what injuries you would arrive in my hospital wing with were one to be held. No, Mr. Potter, the final score stands. Congratulations." She stopped waving her wand over him. "Three hours more, Mr. Potter, than you can go."

"I feel fine," Harry protested.

"And you won't feel at all fine if you try to get out of that bed in less than three hours," the medi-witch said sternly.

She turned and swept away, but he could hear her mutter that only a Hufflepuff would demand a rematch for a game they'd won.

"Cedric and the Ravenclaw Seeker, Kipling, have already been released," Ernie said. "They caught you and slowed you down, but Kipling caught a bludger and was thrown from his broom and you all crashed down together. You ended up in the bottom of the pile."

"Figures," Harry sighed. "Does anyone know what happened to my broom? I mean, I read about brooms some but there wasn't enough time to read everything. Was there something I should have been looking for?"

"Harry…" Hermione began. She looked at the others who shrugged. She turned back to Harry and gave him and helpless look. "What happened to your broom, Harry, it wasn't accidental."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"What happened wasn't a malfunction or some aspect of the charms going wrong," Hermione said. "What I mean to say is…it was deliberate. Someone purposely sabotaged your broom."

The door of the infirmary opened and Hagrid walked in. "Harry!" he said. "Good to see yer up."

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Hagrid watched the game with us," Ernie said. "It was pretty good until…well…"

"I brought yeh this," Hagrid said, a small golden ball appearing in his giant hand. "Figured yeh might want ter keep it. Good luck an' such."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, taking the ball.

"Hagrid, we think Elissa Blackthorn may be trying to kill Harry," Hermione said.

"What?" Harry blurted at the same time as Hagrid said, "Allie?"

"The Headmaster said that she's spent a couple years studying advanced magic," Ron said.

Hagrid snorted as Harry stared at Hermione in shock. "Bushwah. Allie weren' at the game."

"She didn't need to be," Hermione said. "She could have put the spells on the broom one at a time over days, even weeks, if need be."

"Harry didn' keep 'is broom in the shed," Hagrid said.

"The Hufflepuff common room has a standing open door policy to friends in other houses," Ernie said. "She could have snuck in at any time."

"You said that it took Dark magic to influence a broom," Ron said. "She says she has a dangerous Talent. And with what the Headmaster said…" he looked at Hagrid expectantly.

"I've known Allie fer years," Hagrid said. "Had a problem in mah hut with a g—"

Ron cut him off. "She's probably working with Snape to get whatever it is that is being guarded behind that three-headed dog!"

"How do yeh know 'bout Fluffy?" Hagrid asked.

"_Fluffy_?" Harry blurted.

"Yeah," Hagrid said slowly. "He's mine, bough' him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year, I lent him ter Dumbledore ter guard the…" he stopped, frowning suddenly.

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Now, don' ask me anymore," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" Ron nearly shouted.

"Rubbish," Hagrid said. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So then why are he and Allie trying to kill Harry?" Hermione asked. The events of the afternoon had clearly changed her mind about the two Slytherins. "Even if you're right about her not having the knowledge, I bet Snape could have taught her. If Harry kept the broom in his dorm then how else would the broom have been cursed?"

"I'm telling yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Allie wouldn' try ter kill anyone, and Snape wouldn' help her try an' kill a student. Harry, I'm surprised yeh aren' objecting, I thought Allie was yer friend!"

Harry felt ill, but he looked away from Hagrid. The words wouldn't come.

"Now yeh listen ter me," Hagrid said after a moment, "the whole lot of yeh. Allie didn' try ter kill yeh, Harry, an' neither did Snape. Yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' yeh forget what it's guardin'. That's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel."

Hagrid turned and stormed from the room before Harry could say anything else.

"Well," Hermione said, "we did learn one thing."

"We did?" Ernie asked.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "There's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry paused outside the doors of Allie's lab in the Tower of Turmoil. He screwed up his courage and knocked.

"Come in."

On top of the long bench that dominated the center of the room was a complex array of stoppered flasks over small fires. Connecting the flasks were miles of glass tubes. All of this met in the center where there was a cauldron over a blue flame but under a glass enclosure. The tubes entered the enclosure and were extended over the cauldron. A small spigot on the outside of the enclosure was connected to more tubing which ran into the side of a water faucet from which water ran freely.

"What is all of this?" Harry asked, unable to overcome his curiosity.

"Alchemy," Allie said, "among other things. I'm just generating a few precursor agents for a potion I want to try. This one happens to require a vacuum. Can I help you with something?"

"We need to talk," Harry said. "Not here, there's an unused classroom we're meeting in."

She looked up at him and frowned. "Right now?"

He nodded.

"I'll need a minute," she said.

"That would be fine," Harry said. He left, shutting the door behind him, and waited uneasily until she came out.

"What's the problem?" she asked.

Harry shook his head mutely and led her out of the tower and down the gallery.

"Harry?" Allie asked.

"You'll see in a bit," he said, opening a secret passageway. It was narrow, low, and very, very dusty. The passageway let out near the charms corridor, and Harry went to the first unused classroom on the right.

"Well?" Ernie asked as he walked in.

Allie followed him in and stopped, her hand on the door-handle as she took in both the High Lords of Chaos, plus two. "Granger, Weasley," she said, her tone polite, but cool. "I see that the gang's all here, though I can't imagine why you'd want to do anything with Weasley."

"That was before you tried to kill Harry," Ron said hotly.

Harry froze as Allie's familiar smirk disappeared. For a moment her face was twisted, ugly with rage and hate, that made him take a step back, but then she schooled her face into a blank, expressionless mask.

"You've got nothing, Weasley."

"We know that you tried to kill Harry," Ron repeated. "We know how you did. We know why you did it. We know when you did it." When Allie didn't reply he smirked. "Don't have anything to say to that, do you?"

"All I've heard so far is hot air, Weasley," Allie said. "Sly hinting and innuendo, from a little boy who thinks he is far more clever than he really is. If I wanted to listen to this I'd go listen to Malfoy blather." Ron started to retort, but Allie pressed on. "If you really did have some evidence of what you are suggesting I did, Weasley, then I would be having this conversation with the Law Enforcement Patrol."

"We have evidence," Ron protested.

Harry watched Allie raise an eyebrow toward Ron, then slowly turn and look at him. "Do you think I tried to murder you?" she asked.

Harry hesitated and then slowly said, "Ron really does have a convincing argument, Allie."

Her cool mask cracked and a look of unfeigned shock stared at him for a moment. "Parvati? Padma?"

Parvati shrugged and examined the floor while Padma crossed her arms. "_I'm_ not convinced," she said, glaring at Ron. "I still think it was Snape. _You_ may not have seen it, Weasley, but he was staring at Harry's broom and chanting. He didn't even blink. Eye-contact is important for that kind of magic, even _Granger_ agrees with me about that."

"About the requirements of a jinx," Hermione said sharply. "I never said that I thought Snape was on the one responsible and nobody else saw him performing one."

"That's because you were all too busy watching Cedric save Harry," Padma spat.

"It doesn't matter, Hermione," Ron said before Hermione could retort. "Snape's in league with her."

"You can't be serious," Allie muttered.

"Oh he is," Padma said darkly. "He's utterly deluded, of course, but quite serious."

"And you're going along with this, Harry?"

"I don't know what to think!" Harry exploded. The roller coaster of emotions of the last day, from knowing he was going to die, to his unexpected rescue, to Ron accusing his friend and sounding so _reasonable_ about it, all becoming too much. "There, I've said, alright? I don't know. All I know is that someone tried to kill me. And maybe Padma's right, maybe it was Snape. Or maybe Ron is. But I don't know and it's not like we can question Snape."

"Tonks, Diggory, why are you here?" Allie asked flatly.

"Representing the interesting of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team," Tonks said before Cedric could reply.

Harry looked at the older student to find her normally brightly-colored hair a mousy-brown.

"I'm withholding judgment," she added.

"I just want to hear your side," Cedric said.

"Oh, so I have a side now?" Allie asked caustically.

Harry felt a glimmer of impending disaster as she glanced at him.

"I didn't think I'd need one among…friends." She turned and headed towards the door. "I think I'll pass."

"Wait," Harry said. She paused and turned back to him. "We just…" he shrugged lamely, unable to voice the question that bothered him.

"You just…what?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

"I don't know," Harry said.

"I think you do," she told him, fixing him with a look that made him feel like a bug that was about to be pinned to a board by a bug collector. After a moment she smirked. It was a twisted specter of her usual expression, cold and arrogant and hurtful, without any of the warm humorous mocking-at-the-world that her normal smirk contained.

"Tell us, Weasley," she continued without turning her head, her voice dropping into a silken whisper that hid a razor's edge, "just what is it that you think you know." The subtle stress on the _think_ made a soft echo in the stone-walled chamber, like the clang of a gauntlet cast onto the floor.

"We know that you know where the Hufflepuff common room is and how to get in," Ron said. "We know that you know a potion that gives off fumes that make people sleep deeply. We know that…" he glanced at Hermione, "…not a lot of magic can influence a broom, and we know that you spent years studying magic privately."

"And for all of those years spent studying, so far I have been unable to turn a matchstick into a needle," Allie said dryly. "And I've yet to hear anything that suggests what I learned could have influenced a broom."

"We know that you studied powerful magic," Ron said. "Stuff not taught in Hogwarts."

"Are you sure?" Allie asked. "To the best of my knowledge, none of those in this room are taking seventh year ancient runes. I would question how a person with less than four months of learning in this fine institution would know _all_ of what is taught in Hogwarts. But for argument's sake, I'll concede that point, Weasley. Yes, I may have studied magic not normally taught in Hogwarts."

"You have the means, and you have the opportunity," Hermione said.

"Opportunity, maybe," Allie allowed. "I'll eve admit that I could probably destroy a broom easily enough. I'd just have to transform it into a needle or take Hagrid's axe to it. But to get the effects you are suggesting, Granger, I'd have to be better at charms than…oh, whoever got the highest score on their Charms O.W.L. last year, at the very least."

"Better," Tonks interjected.

"Which, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not. Nor could I have pulled whatever it is you think I've done out of my hat. I might be a fair hand with runes and arithmancy, and know a bit more about how brooms are enchanted than the average wizard or witch, but messing up a broom to do what the stories say Harry's did is so far beyond me it'd be like asking Weasley here to go and enchant a copy of the Great Hall's ceiling."

"What about a ward?" Padma asked.

Harry looked at her and he wasn't the only one.

"What?" she asked. "Remember your birthday present, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly and looked back at Harry.

"Wards aren't exactly designed to be mobile," Allie said dryly. "And trying to enchant a few minor defensive spells into something like a broom, even if it could be done, wouldn't have that kind of effect. Besides," she said, rolling back a sleeve to expose a silver band that was wrapped around her wrist, "my best stuff is _binding_ magic.

"Even if I, for the sake of argument, had gone out and bought my own broom to practice on, it'd still have taken all of my free time to design a binding and expect it to work without exploding. And there's the little fact that if I had done just that—and mind you I think I can find enough witnesses to say that I _didn't_ spend all or even most of my free time in hovering over a broom in some secret lair—"

"Sure you could," Ron said. "You don't think we haven't seen the way you go running off after classes. I bet your witnesses are Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle."

"I think I might be able to surprise you," Allie sneered. "In fact, I'm almost certain I can think of at least one Gryffindor who'd admit that I haven't been spending all my time working on some broom binding."

"What Gryffindor would want to spend time with a slimy snake like you?" Ron asked.

"As opposed to a Gryffindor that has completely missed the point?" Allie asked acerbically.

"And what is that again?" Ron asked. "That you live in a cave?"

"That a binding would make the broom _not work bloody first place!_" Allie gave them a scornful look that made Harry wince. "Bindings are _binding_ Weasley. With enough time and effort I could probably get a broom to not work at all, though I have no idea why I'd want to. It might even be possible to use some sort of delay function so a broom would stop working in mid-air, but no binding would make a broom try to buck its rider off first.

"And I _still_ haven't heard anyone explain why I'd have the sudden desire to _kill my best friend_."

Harry winced again. This was not going anything like the way he'd wanted it to. He just wanted answers. Snape seemed to hate him for some reason, but he couldn't think of why the professor would want him dead. And Allie had made no secret that her magic was dangerous, had even seemed wary of his help getting him into Hogwarts. And Ron had already helped save his and Hermione's life from that troll, they all had, and Allie had been nowhere to be seen for that. Even Tonks and Cedric had been around for _that_.

"Ron thinks that you—"

"Ron thinks?" Allie asked him sharply. "Malfoy hides behind what his father thinks and says. Let Weasley say what he thinks to my face. At least don't hide behind him if you decide to speak your piece."

"You warned me that not all of Volde—I mean, You-Know-Who's, followers were imprisoned. That some of them still wandered free. You said that your father was one of them, and Dumbledore didn't want you in Hogwarts because he considered you a danger," Harry said.

Allie looked at him with an expression of shock that was so perfect, she could not have looked more surprised if he had walked up to her and hit her with a fish. Part of Harry felt a grim sort of satisfaction at that look. A larger part of him recoiled at it.

"I see," she said in a bleak voice. She shook herself slightly and repeated in a stronger voice, "I see. You think I'm one of Voldemort's followers, do you?"

Ron and most of the others in the room flinched.

"Or on some twisted revenge kick for my father being in Azkaban? Well unless Voldemort was inducting toddlers into his twisted little band of mass-murderers, I'm not the former, and my father can rot in Azkaban for all I care."

"The fact that you say You-Know-Who's name is proof that you're with him!"

"Oh grow a pair, Weasley," Allie said. "It's a name. A name of a wizard and nothing more. It isn't even a particularly _good_ name."

"I remember what it was like when he was still around, Blackthorn," Tonks said.

"And if you expect me to lie down and whimper at the _name_ of a man who got himself killed ten years ago by an infant?" Allie asked. She turned to Harry. "Go ahead, Harry, why don't you tell me what you really think."

"You lied to me," Harry said. "You said that your family trust only covered Hogwarts, but Ron told me that all of the Thorne's have been home-taught and we couldn't find any other Thornes, or unexplained Hawthorns or Blackthorns, in the old yearbooks in the library."

"Well what do you know, Weasley was right about one thing," Allie said sarcastically. "To bad that's his one smart observation for the year."

"Hey!" Ron said. He started forward, whether to throw a punch or a spell Harry didn't know, but Hermione grabbed onto his robes and held him back

"My mother died when I was nine," Allie continued coolly. "All for the better since she had been incapable of really taking care of herself—let alone raising me—for years before that. My grandmother—long may her soul rot—is kept alive on machines, magic, and pure vile spite. She loathes me, and the feeling is entirely mutual. I spent the next years living with the Patils, Master G after that. Home-study was never an option for me, and the trust _does_ cover Hogwarts even if no Thorne has ever needed to avail herself to it, and does _not_ cover an outside apprenticeship."

"Stop trying to confuse the issue," Hermione said suddenly.

"I'm not," Allie said, crossing her arms. "Granger, my patience was never great and the lot of you are straining it mightily."

"You don't have an alibi or witnesses," Hermione said.

"Which if I was going to murder someone of Harry's public stature I would make sure to have," Allie said, nodding. "Thank you for helping my point."

"You could be faking it," Ron blurted.

Harry looked at him. "It?" he asked.

"Motion sickness," Ron said. "She got ill just from watching Neville bob around on a broom a little."

"A broken wrist is hardly what I would call a little 'bobbing around on a broom,'" Allie said dryly. "But please, Weasley, do continue."

"Well, everyone thinks you're in the hospital wing which gives you a chance to—"

"Why would they think that?" Allie asked as Harry gave his friend a confused look.

"Because you have motion sickness," Ron said.

Padma snickered.

"Er…" Harry hesitated. "I, uh, think motion sickness come from watching the motion, Ron."

"She's twisting you around, Harry, just like I told you she would," Ron said with a glare towards the Slytherin. "You haven't been in Potions with her. Snape likes her, likes her as much as he does Malfoy. We know Snape's going for whatever it is that is being hidden in the Forbidden Corridor, Cedric saw him on Halloween, and Padma saw him today at the match trying to help along whatever jinx _she_—" he waved a hand grandly at Allie "—put on your broom. And you said it yourself, Harry. She used you to get into Hogwarts.

"I'll bet she let the troll into the dungeons for Quirrell to find so that Snape had an excuse to go check the corridor. She probably did too because I didn't see her heading towards the Slytherin common room—the twins showed me where it was. Cedric probably just didn't notice her when he noticed Snape, or maybe she arrived late, after Cedric had to leave." He turned to Allie, "Bet you don't have anything to say to that, do you?" he asked snidely.

"I shouldn't have to say anything in the first place," Allie told him. She looked around at the others, and Harry looked away before she could get to him.

He honestly didn't know what he was supposed to think. What Ron said made a lot of sense. It explained what Padma saw at the game. Allie had proven herself almost as spectacularly inept as Neville Longbottom at practical magic where a wand was concerned, but yet she was still able to perform amazing bits using longer rituals and stuff so maybe she did have the skills to curse his broom. It explained how the troll got into the dungeons while the others had agreed that Snape hadn't had time to do it before the feast…unless the troll had already been there under some kind of time-delay charm or something.

"Harry?" she asked.

He refused to meet her gaze.

"I see," he heard her say. That made him look up, and almost immediately he wished he hadn't for she asked, "You really think Weasley has a point, do you?"

"I just don't know," he admitted after a moment of hesitation. "It's just…Ron makes some good points and you can't counter them."

"No," she said softly, "I don't suppose I can."

Before Harry could say anything, she turned and stormed out of the room.

"You know, Weasley, you are even more stupid that I thought you were when you made that 'motion sickness' crack," Padma said. "And Harry, I honestly expected better from you. Isn't loyalty supposed to be what you badgers are good at? I'm going after her…maybe it isn't too late for _our_ friendship."

"What?" Ron asked as Padma disappeared, her sister shuffling out the door behind her.

"You're the one who knows where the Slytherin dorms are," Cedric said slowly.

Harry looked at him, not sure where Cedric was going with this.

"So?"

"So where is it?" Cedric asked.

"Down in the dungeons, where else do you think slimy snakes live?"

"So you have to ask yourself," Tonks said, following Cedric to the door, "would Dumbledore really allow a quarter of his students to go traipsing around the dungeons if he thought there was a troll in them?"

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Harry alone in the unused classroom with Ron and Hermione.

"Good riddance," Ron muttered. "What do you say we go play some wizard's chess?"

"I…" Harry stopped. "Think I'd like to be alone for a little while, Ron," he said as he headed for the door.

"What? Why?"

As Harry stepped out into the corridor he heard Hermione say: "_Ron!_ Honestly." Then the door slammed shut.


	15. Chapter 15: The Philosopher's Stone

**Chapter 15: The Philosopher's Stone**

"The longest journey is the journey inwards. Of him who has chosen his destiny, Who has started upon his quest for the source of his being. "  
-Dag Hammarskjold**-**

\|/\|/\|/**  
**

In his tower office Albus Dumbledore held up a lemon drop and examined it through an intricately-charmed jeweler's loupe. He curled his toes and tried not to giggle. Someone during the night had left a pair of extra-large, super-thick woolen stockings hanging from the ears of his gargoyle. Stuffed inside the stockings almost to the point of bursting—and inside of plastic liners to keep wool-yarn from contaminating them (and to keep the wool from becoming sticky)—were lemon drops. They weren't his usual lemon drop which he obtained from a muggle confectionary in Edinburgh that had kept him in sweets for three—or was it four now?—generations of proprietors.

He had already tested four of the strange lemon drops to the point of destruction, something he mourned the necessity of. There had been no indications of illicit potions applied or inserted into the treat. Setting aside the loupe he brought forth a pair of brass calipers and quickly measured the diameter of the small yellow lozenge, which he dutifully recorded in a handsome leather-bound journal. Setting the treat on a balance he quickly added and removed small, intricately-carved weights. He recorded the mass of the lemon drop as well.

"Taste test number one," he murmured allowed as he drew a column with a goose-quill, "The time being forty-seven minutes past the sixth hour on the morning of the Sixth day of December." He set the pen aside and carefully selected a lemon drop and placed it delicately on the surface of his tongue and closed his mouth.

In the mirror on his desk, his eyes crossed. His nose turned pink, followed by his ears and cheeks. His mouth, formerly an anticipatory smile, tightened into a thin line, his lips puckering a moment later. The lemon drop seemed to absorb all of the liquid in his mouth, rapidly desiccating the tissue. His cheeks collapsed inward, and he found it very hard to breathe.

_Is this death_? Albus wondered. Death by lemon drop, how very…unique. It was exquisite, a bright shining edge between pleasure and pain. Supremely sour without any hint of bitterness, and yet so sweet it reminded him of the days of wine, song, and celebration following the defeat of Grindelwald and poor misguided Tom.

His lips unclenched, his cheeks swelled again, and he found that with the dissolving of the lemon drop he could breathe once more.

"_Wow_," he said. Or at least that was what he tried to say, the word came out in a hoarse whisper so faint and rough that he was scarcely sure he had spoken at all.

Fawkes trilled a melodic burst of laughter at him.

Albus glared briefly at the phoenix but refrained from speaking. He took up the quill again, and by _Taste Test #1_: he wrote in _Wow_.

He set aside the quill, deciding to hold off on further testing until he had had a moment to recover.

Instead, he stood and crossed the room to where many silvery magical instruments whirred or puffed or glowed gently. Fawkes trilled gently as he stood and examined them.

He had been disappointed and not a little worried when Harry had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Much of how the Sorting Hat determined which student would go where, depended upon personality, and much of personality was based upon upbringing. But the knowledge a person had, one's views, could influence it. Sometimes they could influence it a great deal, thus his careful planning using Hagrid to introduce Harry to the magical world. As an added bonus it would give Harry a friend, and older one he could go to for advice, not a small thing for a young wizard away from home for the first time.

He had been outraged at the presence of one 'Elissa Blackthorn' disrupting his careful plans…and yet, he wondered if Harry would be doing half as well if they had worked as originally intended. Harry the Hufflepuff had two good friends in his own dormitory, both of families that were highly regarded in their respective communities. He had another good, if distant friend, in the Bones-heir. And, of course, the Patil twins, Mr. Weasley—another good family there—and Ms. Granger.

Professor Snape aside, all of his Professors had had good things to say about his work ethic—not surprising, it was a rare badger that didn't have a solid work ethic. A bit of a lapse towards the end of October, not really surprising considering how much school work he had, the intense practices before the upcoming Quidditch season, and, of course, the knowledge of what Halloween was the anniversary of. Talented, as expected as a child of James and Lily Potter, though better with the practical aspects of magic than the theory. But that wasn't so bad a thing, Albus thought, there were different kinds of intelligence and an Academic Harry would have meant serious problems in the future.

And the worst thing that he had feared, that Harry would lack the courageous bravery found amongst the lion house, had not come to pass. Loyalty? He thought about it for a moment and slowly nodded. Well, many of the greater attributes of human-kind were interrelated. Courage, loyalty, love…whichever it was, Harry had proven he had it when he had gone up against that troll.

_At least one good thing had come of that shameful event_, Albus thought darkly, but a worry lifted from his shoulders was still a worry lifted from his shoulders. That kind of courage wasn't something that he would have dared test for, and he had worried that Harry's being Sorted into Hufflepuff had been a dire portent. But Harry had proven himself of being capable of courageous acts. That was more than enough for one yet so young.

Unfortunate it had come to pass, of course, and should he ever discover who had so recklessly endangered his students… Well he had a few ancient spells recovered from the tomb of a mage-priest of Sokar that he might try—purely for academic interest, of course—before turning over what was left to the Board of Governors. No doubt Lucius would want some retribution of his own for the endangerment of the young Mister Malfoy, and it would be useful for that man to owe him a favor. As much as he regretted the troll and everything that came with it, he was not above getting all of the good out of it that he could.

Albus reached out a long finger and tapped a purplish-blue sphere only slightly larger than a snitch, that was resting inside a thin silver hoop held up by even smaller spindly legs. It didn't change color, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed. Harry had depressed for weeks, if the mood-sphere was any indication.

He wasn't sure why. Between his schoolwork, quidditch, games in the Hufflepuff common room, being with his friends in other houses, and going wherever it was he had taken a habit of slipping off to, Harry didn't seem to have any time in which to be depressed.

Yes, the youngest Weasley boy and the Granger girl had replaced Ms. Thorne in Harry's circle of friends. All to the better, really. Powers like hers were incredibly corrupting in nature. Having her leave Harry now would spare him having to fight a close friend later. It was an experience he would spare anyone.

Perhaps, he wondered darkly, it would be better if Severus were to slip her something now and deal with that little problem permanently before it could become a bigger problem later. And it would, he knew, become a problem.

Hogwarts trembled about him and Fawkes squawked as the fire in his fireplace suddenly seemed dark and menacing when it had been warm and inviting only moments before.

"I know," he whispered, not a little horrified in the direction his thoughts had taken him, "I know. She is my student, and it is my responsibility to protect her as much as I would protect any other student. But that means I also have a responsibility to protect other students from her…and, ultimately, to protect her from herself."

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes and sat back in his chair as he felt a great weight lift from him. He _knew_ he was going to regret it. He could recall the grim days of the last war where things were so busy, so constantly in flux, that it was all he could do to try and keep as many balls in the air as he could. He could recall the bone-deep weariness that had robbed his steps of their spring and his mind of its normally lightning-quick agility.

Helping Ms. Thorne would likely prove just as taxing as insuring Harry's development. It would be a distraction that would almost certainly prove costly in the extreme and more than likely pointless in the fullness of time. Her Talent would be a potent weapon but a corrupting one, and her motivations would matter little in that regard. And yet…

He _knew_ he was going to regret it, but the challenge was there, and along with sweets and a degree of curiosity that had bordered on 'unhealthy' in his youth, he'd always been hard-pressed to ignore a challenge. And maybe it'd give him a chance to do a little hands-on teaching again. As much as he loved becoming Headmaster of Hogwarts, he'd missed the personal instruction.

Now if only he had an idea of where to begin.

An eagle owl with a Ministry of Magic collar—this one bearing the seal of the Minister of Magic—hooted imperiously from his office windowsill.

Things were starting to pick up. The long lull, like a Quidditch training season, was starting to come to a close. A part of Albus, the part of him that gloried in the complex move/counter-move of plans wrought and discarded only for new ones to be set forth, was positively giddy. The part of him that knew that once the pre-season exhibition games were over people would start dying for real, mourned it. And in the back of his mind he recalled the terrible weariness that seemed to suck the life out of everything.

One last season, he made a mental promise to himself. I'll see this one through, see Tom dealt with once and for all, and then it will be time to retire. He nodded, perhaps there would be time to teach a few classes of his own, or maybe do a little research…or he could finally sit down and write that book.

He set these thoughts aside and tapped the mood-sphere again.

"Perhaps we should have used passwords, or even blood-wards," he murmured, not for the first time reflecting on the object hidden in Hogwarts. But passwords were easily stolen, guessed, or broken, and in the event of emergency it was better someone else was able to get to the stone, just in case the one person allowed by the strongest of the blood wards had been neutralized only to find that they hadn't warded the damn thing quite as cleverly as they had thought.

And, if as he suspected was the case, expanding them beyond just himself would render them moot. For although he had no proof, not even the flimsiest shred of evidence, he strongly suspected that someone close, someone _very_ close, was working for the Opposition.

No, the precautions would have to suffice. Getting past a monstrous three-headed dog in a chamber that allowed no magic would stymie the most powerful of wizards. Any first year would know Devil's Snare, but it was a plant soon forgotten and not even used on the O.W.L. tests. The key that could not be summoned to open a lock that could not be magically unlocked, a chess-set that would violently attack any that tried to bypass it. Quirrell's troll, Severus' logic puzzle. The mirror would arrive during the Christmas holiday when the school was largely empty. He would see to its emplacement himself.

The defenses already in place could not be lowered for longer than that. Replacing them all while students in school…impossible. It was a problem about which he could do no more and thus set aside. The owl…Cornelius wouldn't reach his desk for at least two more hours and wouldn't expect Albus' reply until well after that. If he had, he wouldn't have delayed the message so that it arrived so early in the morning. Another problem that could be set aside for now.

Likewise there was little he could do to help Harry. In all likelihood the girl didn't mean him any harm right now, was in fact possibly a good person…at the moment. But he knew better than most the kind of horrors that could come of trying to do good. With her magic in the equation…no, best that she remain where she was. Best for them both. Best that Harry was never put in the position of having to kill a friend. If Harry and she made up, so be it, but he would not do anything to encourage that turn of events.

He nodded slowly, turning the problem around in his mind. It was far from an ideal solution, but he couldn't see any better ones. Until she showed signs of slipping he would reduce his involvement to keeping a close eye on her. A _very_ close eye…

There was a creak behind him.

"_-on and on my friend.  
Some people started singing it  
Not knowing what it was.  
And they'll continue singing it  
Forever, just because  
It is a song that doesn't—"_

The music cut off abruptly as Severus slammed the door shut and layered on the three increasingly complex silencing wards needed to drown out the sound of his new doorbell.

"I still do not understand why you do not simply blast that miserable excuse of a door ornament into nothingness, Headmaster."

"I heard that you used that method to great effect, Severus," Dumbledore allowed, recalling how the shards of the blasted cauldron had slowly transformed into complete cauldrons of their own. All charmed to talk back to the person brewing in them. It truly was a remarkable piece of work, and he wondered where whoever had done it had gotten the idea.

Snape glowered at him.

"Is there anything new, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, Headmaster. I've just been going over progress reports," he grimaced.

"That bad?"

"Worse," The Potion Master said. "If I break up Longbottom and Blackthorn I'll have to put up with Longbottom's imbecility. If I don't break them up and pair her with Goyle and Crabbe, those two dunderheads will fail and have to take the course again…and again and again."

Dumbledore contemplated reminding Severus of his remarks about young Draco Malfoy's brilliance in potions, and grudging remarks about Hermione Granger's capabilities. Either of whom were capable of taking on one of the aforementioned students. He refrained, however. Classroom management was best left in the hands of the people who actually ran the classrooms. "Is that all?" he asked.

"I might have to loan Flint to Pomona for a few months to see if he learns a little 'Puff work-ethic," Snape said severely. "If I don't we may have to put up with him for Merlin knows how many more years."

"We have more than a year to worry about that," Albus decided. "What about Ms. Blackthorn's other classes?"

Severus' mouth twisted into something approximating a smile. "She is better than Granger when it comes to theory. Her practical magic scores in Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration, however, are abysmal. If I didn't know any better I would place money on her being in a deliberate competition with Longbottom for most dangerously inept student of the year."

It was disappointing, Albus thought. He had shown such potential in Diagon Alley for working with Harry, and while Severus was tormenting the boy far less than he feared, it was not at all like he had hoped for. Unlike Harry, Ms. Blackthorn at least trusted him, but Harry was—or at least had been—her friend, and Severus had alienated her along with Harry. Most unfortunate as Severus was her Head of House. But—

He paused at the stirrings of another idea. He had far too much experience with such things to rush it. Instead he frowned and peered down at one of the many magical devices to forestall Severus from speaking. Yes, he thought slowly, perhaps _that_ was a possibility…

"Ms. Blackthorn has already been forced to see Poppy twice due to magic-burn?" he asked.

"Yes…" Snape said slowly, hissing the sibilants. "Why?"

"Hmm?" Albus Dumbledore asked as he straightened. "Oh, Severus, I must have had a stray thought. You must forgive me," he picked up the crystal bowl filled with the latest confections. "Lemon drop?"

Normally Severus was much too dour to accept, but perhaps, yes…Albus resisted the urge to giggle. Sometimes life could be so very _interesting_.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry and the other Hufflepuffs hurried to Potions class. None of them wanted to be late. Snape, already the least favorite teacher in Hogwarts by far—or at least the least favorite to anyone who wasn't in Slytherin house—had grown increasingly sour of the last few weeks.

Despite the impending class, none of them were very anxious about it. The Hogwarts Express had been spotted that morning from the Astronomy Tower, taking on loads of coal and water. It was the last day of classes. Tomorrow, all of those students whose names weren't on the list to stay behind would board the train back to London. Even Harry, whose name _was_ on the list, had found the excitement infectious as he led Ernie and Justin down the stairs into the dungeons while they compared magical and non-magical decorations.

The trip came to a shocking, sputtering stop as Harry, in the dim light of the first-level dungeon corridor, hopped down what looked like the last step and ended up nearly to his waist in freezing cold water.

For a moment the Hufflepuffs stared at each other. Harry's breath was stolen by the knife-like icy cold that stabbed into his legs.

"What the—" someone towards the back asked.

"Grab him!" Justin snapped to Ernie. The two grabbed at the shoulders of Harry's robes and pulled him back, Susan, who was next in line, grabbed him by the back of the robes and helped, only to yelp as her left foot was immersed up to her ankle.

"The water's rising!" she cried, but didn't give up her space.

Between the three of them they got Harry back on dry stairs—already the two steps Harry had jumped over had vanished under the black water—and helped him up to flight back to the side-corridor off the Entrance Hall that they had started down.

"T-t-thanks guys," Harry managed as he got his feet back under him. He couldn't feel anything at all below his mid-thigh other than that everything seemed very heavy, likely from how his robes were clinging to them.

He staggered up a step, and only Ernie's fast acting saved him from falling back down the stairs. It felt like he was standing on very long stilts with an articulation in them where his knee was. As long as he kept his legs straight he was more or less able to stay balanced, but he couldn't _feel_ his legs to know if they were straight or not.

"What was that?" Justin asked as they made their way back to the Entrance Hall with one of Harry's arms slung over each of his and Ernie's shoulders.

"A prank?" Hannah asked.

"Sure, step in it and you're an ice-cube," Zacharias Smith said.

"Maybe it would be in summer when it's hot," Susan said. "But that wasn't funny."

"We should get Harry to the Hospital Wing," Justin said.

"I'm f-f-fine," Harry said.

"You're shivering," Justin said. "And I had to do a report last year on the arctic explorers. Cold can be really bad, and wet stuff is the worst."

They stumbled out into the Entrance Hall to find a crowd already gathering. Eric Bryce hurried over a cart loaded with goblets and a pair of cauldrons hanging over tiny purple flames.

"I was just about to send a search party for you lot," he informed them.

"You were?" Zacharias asked their prefect.

"It's my responsibility to know your schedules in case you need help finding your classrooms," Bryce said. "Although that's usually more a problem in the beginning of the year." He pulled out his wand and hit Harry's robes with a warm orangey-yellow colored spell that instantly left him dry. A second spell left his robes feeling toasty-warm and returned feeling to his legs, albeit a sharp pins-and-needles sensation.

"Anybody else get wet?"

"M-my f-foot," Susan Bones said, starting to shiver as well.

Bryce cast the same spells, then filled goblets from the first cauldron. "Pepper-up Potion, preventative measure against colds, ague, _flö_s—"

"_Flu_s?" Justin asked. "There's more than one?"

"Well, there's the flu, of course, but then there are also the flue, floo, and flew," Eric said sagely as the first year Hufflepuffs drank. Steam poured from all of their ears except for Ernie whose face got very red until he belched, releasing a cloud of steam and making a sound like a tea kettle left on the stove.

Goblets filled from the second cauldron were dispensed to Harry and Susan who immediately felt the last of the icy chill leave their bones.

"Excuse me! Coming through!"

The Hufflepuffs hurried to the side as an older student with a Ravenclaw house badge and the shield of a Prefect below it, hurried over to the corridor and waved his wand. A shimmering barrier appeared, blocking the passage before water could flow into the Entrance Hall. As they watched, water began to rise on the other side of the barrier.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"We aren't sure," the Prefect said. "We think someone opened some kind of portal to the Black Lake. One of the first-year Slytherin girls said that the windows in their common room exploded, but I'm not sure anyone could have gotten out of their common room if that were the case and so far there are no signs that anyone is seriously hurt."

Someone screamed and another person cried: "_Look!_"

They turned as water came thundering down the Grand Staircase in a swirl of frothy white. Upper years conjured blocks of stone, wooden walls, or shimmering magical shields and the channeled water went crashing out the main doors. The Entrance Hall was split roughly in two by a torrent of rushing water.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Justin demanded.

"The third-level north-east dungeons have a stair that leads down to the second left-hand corridor on the fourth floor," Bryce said. By now Harry had learned enough of Hogwarts bizarre internal geography that even though he couldn't picture the staircase he was not at all confused by the impossibility of this sentence.

"But the water is coming from the second floor!" Ernie objected.

"Right," the Prefect said. "There's a cross-passage to there, right-hand side corridor…"

"But there's a cross-corridor that should have filled first and it lets out there," Bryce pointed to the second, smaller staircase. "There hasn't been any water from that side."

"Flood Control probably already Sealed it off," the other Prefect said. He nodded a parting to Bryce and hurried off.

"Flood Control?" Harry asked Bryce.

"Oh sure. The Prefects are briefed in on all _sorts_ of contingency plans. Tsunamis, volcanoes, barbarian hordes… I have to get going, duty calls."

"Harry, you alright, mate?" Justin asked as Harry watched Bryce leave with his cart of cauldrons.

"For once I wish there really was a map of Hogwarts," Harry said. "There's something…odd. We need to find Cedric and Tonks. Maybe they know something."

Tonks was nowhere to be seen, but Cedric flew into the hall from one of the upper landings that were now cut off by the Grand Staircase Rapids. He was just setting down with the diminutive Charms Professor riding quillon behind him when Harry, Justin and Ernie ran up. Flitwick nodded a brief thanks to Cedric and went off to shore up the spells directing the Grand Staircase Rapids of the Hogwarts River.

"Harry?" Cedric asked as they pulled up. "I was worried, I thought you'd be down in Potions."

"We're all right," Harry assured him.

"Harry jumped in," Ernie said. "It was awesome," he added, a little time and the giant river putting enough space between the memory of the event and the event itself to make it seem far more exciting and less scary than it had been at the moment.

"Cedric," Harry said in a hurry. "Water is flowing from the dungeons down a stair to the second left-hand corridor on the fourth floor."

"Right, a cross-passage from there to the right-hand-side corridor on the second," Cedric said.

"But there's a cross-corridor that's—"

"Blocked, I was going to fly through it when bringing Flitwick down but someone had already blocked…it…off…" a funny look crossed his face.

"What?" Harry demanded. "What is it?"

"They aren't on the same plane," Cedric said. "The cross-corridor, that one," he pointed to the dry staircase, "it's a half-level lower. It should have flooded out first, but it was totally dry. Someone must have been right there to block it off so fast."

"And?" Ernie asked.

"And since Halloween most of the accesses to the Forbidden Corridor have been blocked off," Cedric said. "The second-hand-right corridor on the fourth has a staircase, and there is a trick mirror in that flooded corridor. Those are the only permanent entrances still open that I know of. All the rest are only at certain times."

"You think this is an attempt to get the…whatever it is?" Ernie asked in a quiet voice. "Seems a bit much, don't you think?"

Harry frowned. "That or Snape—"

"And Blackthorn," Ernie said.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Most of the others had taken to calling Allie by her last name, but he couldn't do that.

Ron and Hermione, were sure that Allie was working with Snape, and Ernie and Justin, Harry knew, had tolerated her more because she was Harry's friend than because they liked her. Parvati avoided the issue whenever it came up. Her sister, on the other hand, was firmly convinced that they were all being idiots. Padma was the only one of them who still regularly spent time with the Slytherin. Tonks had flatly told them that she hadn't heard anything to convince her one way or the other, but while she and Allie were still more or less on speaking terms there weren't a whole lot of occasions for a first-year Slytherin and a seventh-year Hufflepuff to socialize.

"Anyway," he finished lamely, "Snape could be taking advantage of the situation."

\|/\|/\|/

"Quickly."

Quirrell bit back the response the statement so richly deserved, but The Master heard it anyway. Dark laughter rippled inside his mind like rusty iron nails scraped on a blackboard. The door was quickly opened and as expected the half-breed's monstrous dog was waiting, fully as foul as its breeder.

It was at this point that Snape had surprised them last time. Only barely had they been able to slip aside and hide so that the Traitor had gone through the open door in what he believed to be pursuit. He had pushed the door closed and The Master had been most pleased. Even though the Traitor had survived they had learned that the door could not be opened with magic, which would be most useful once The Master had the Artifact.

Quirrell raised his wand and loosed a blasting spell. The Killing Curse would be far more efficient, it was impossible to miss at this short range against a target so large. But to use it would alert Dumbledore immediately. While many of the traps were known, some would take time to work past and still others remained. Discretion was call for…for now.

Nothing happened.

"Again, Fool," The Master hissed.

"_Inferno_," Quirrell hissed the high-level flame-curse. Again, nothing happened.

"What is it? Why aren't you casting?"

"Something is interfering with magic," Quirrell said flatly from the shelter of the doorway. This close the dog could not get at him and he still kept the door open just in case.

"Tell me everything you see."

"There is a large three-headed dog, a trap-door in the floor, and runes on the walls," Quirrell said, and began to quickly describe the intricate rune-sequence. He was far from an expert in the subject, but he could identify enough of them and describe their relative positions.

"An anti-magic chamber," The Master said, sounding vaguely impressed. "It cannot extend far. Such a place is anathema to Hogwarts. Dumbledore profanes the Castle with its existence."

"What do you think we should do, Master?" Quirrell asked.

"We must find another way past this accursed dog," The Master informed him coldly. "The half-breed gamekeeper will know if anyone does. He always wanted a dragon, this will do for a way in."

"Master?"

"An egg, fool. For a dragon's egg, he will tell us all he knows about how to— Quickly, somebody is coming."

Quirrell just had time to slam the door closed when a voice asked from behind him.

"Professor Quirrell?"

Quirrell turned and blinked as he settled his assumed persona into place. "M-Ms. P-P-Patil, w-what are y-you d-d-doing here?"

"I thought Snape might be after whatever it is Headmaster Dumbledore is guarding here," the girl told him. "I got in just ahead of the waters."

_Deal with her_. The Master's voice whispered in the back of Quirrell's mind.

"S-Snape?" he asked, making his voice squeak as he pretended to shiver in fear at the name of the Traitor.

The girl stopped. "But I was right all along…and wrong," she whispered. "It wasn't Snape, was it?" the question was purely rhetorical. "It was you."

Quirrell stared at her for a moment, wondering what (besides the fact that he was at the entrance to the Forbidden Corridor) had given him away. She started to raise her wand but he was far faster and the disarming curse was so violently executed it broke her wrist at the same time it slammed her back into the wall.

A mild sound-dampening spell cut off her scream as he sent a bludgeoning spell to her face, then summoned her. He stepped aside and added a banishing spell as she flew past into the opposite wall.

She slumped to the ground, barely moving, and Quirrell walked over and kicked her twice for good measure. He could no more use the Cruciatus curse without alerting Dumbledore than he could use the Killing curse, but there were so many spells to choose from. His first one shattered her left knee. Two more curses followed.

"_Enough_." His Master snapped. "Toss her into the water and let her drown. There is not time enough for this."

Quirrell quickly opened a shut door. A shimmering barrier held back rushing water and he tossed the broken girl into it. He quickly used his wand to vanish the evidence of the fight, then used her wand to blank the magical memory of his own so that it could not be replayed. The girl's wand was snapped and tossed in after its owner.

He crossed to another hidden door and opened it and stepped through. Quirrell closed the door most of the way leaving it open just far enough to aim his wand and drop the two barriers holding back the water before he slammed it closed.

\|/\|/\|/

"_PADMA!_"

At the cry every head in the Entrance Hall turned as one towards where Parvati Patil stood amongst a crowd of Gryffindors.

Harry looked around. All about him were black-robed students, but no sign of the Ravenclaw. The crowd was so thick, however, that he doubted he could have seen her if she was standing ten feet away. He only knew where Parvati was from her scream, not because he saw her.

He started shoving through the crowd with Ernie and Justin in tow.

In the middle of a cluster of Gryffindors, Professor McGonagall was trying to comfort a distraught Parvati while keeping an eye on the river and set up an effort to find the source of the flooding.

"He's got her!" the first-year screamed.

"Who has her?" McGonagall asked at the same time as Harry blurted "Snape?" and Ron asked, "Blackthorn?"

"What does Professor Snape have to do with this?" McGonagall demanded.

"I don't know who! The Dark Man. He's going to kill her!"

"We have to save her!" Ron shouted madly.

"Enough!" McGonagall glowered at Ron before fixing Parvati with a much less chilling look than she had given the other Gryffindor first-year. "Ms. Patil. I assure you, your sister is fine. Hogwarts is the safest place—"

"_Look_," someone said. But unlike the earlier shout this was a ghastly sort of gasp.

Harry turned to see a black spot in the white foam at the top of where the water fell down the stairs. Parvati gave a ragged moan and buried her face in his robes, but the rest of the hall watched in a kind of horrific silence as a dark-robed student went crashing down the Grand Staircase/Rapids and into the river.

"Oh, God…" Hermione, for once, had run out of things to say and Harry carefully passed Parvati to her and turned to Ron. "C'mon," he said, knowing Justin and Ernie were right behind him.

With the rest of the Hall just standing there he shoved his way to the riverbank and crawled up on a conjured marble ledge. Justin, without asking, grabbed his legs, and Ron and Ernie did the same thing next to him.

All Harry could tell was that it was another student of about his height with long-dark hair, and was floating motionlessly, face-down in the swift-flowing water. He managed to grab a fist-full of robe as it went by, and Ron got an arm and then—

They were all lifted up into the air and set down in a space clear of students.

McGonagall gave him a look that was half-chiding for his foolishness, half-approval for his action, and extremely stern.

"Padma!" Parvati screamed again, but McGonagall motioned for Hermione to hold the distraught girl back.

The Transfiguration Mistress waved her wand over the still form, then seemed to slump, though she remained just as erect as before, and mutely shook her head.

"No," Parvati said in a horrible gasp as her hands flew up. "_No!_"

"Move. _Move_, damn it. Let me through."

"Allie?" Harry asked as the Slytherin burst through a ring of onlookers and crouched next to the still girl.

"Help me turn her over," Allie said.

"It's too late," McGonagall said flatly. "She's dead."

Harry head Parvati gave a horrified little gasp as he helped Allie carefully turn his friend over. She wasn't moving. He looked up at Allie. "Are you—"

"She's only mostly dead," Allie said shortly. "No one is _all_ dead until a qualified medical-witch or –wizard says so."

Harry swallowed as Allie pressed her mouth to Padma's. He knew, roughly what she was trying to do even if he didn't know how to do it. What made him feel sick however, were the injuries that covered Padma. One hand hung at an angle that nature did not intend. Teeth had been missing in the swollen maw of her mouth, and her nose and one cheekbone had been crushed. A large cut across her brow must have bled profusely if the pink-tinged skin of her face was anything to go by.

"She's dead…this is…"

Harry looked up at McGonagall who seemed torn between wanting to curse Allie or encourage her.

"If she is dead," Allie grunted as she positioned her hands on Padma's chest, "then it's not like I'm actually hurting anyone."

"That's sick," Harry murmured to himself to keep from distracting Allie.

"But—"

"Professor, with all due respect," Allie said between breaths, not sound at all respectful, "Are you a medi-witch? No? Well until one tells me to stop, or my arms fall off, I'm going to keep going."

"You can't…" McGonagall was still trying to find something to say.

"Actually, ma'am, she can," Hermione said unexpectedly, and Harry twisted to look up at where she was standing next to McGonagall. Her expression and tone were oddly detached—academic, really—from the situation, and she was still holding Parvati back. "If she can keep blood circulating so that the organs, especially the brain, don't start to die from oxygen starvation…but we don't know how long she was in the water."

McGonagall gave her a withering look.

"Even if it wasn't that long, it isn't a permanent solution," Hermione went on, staring back at where He and Allie were hovering over the still form of Padma. "CPR only on rare occasions is enough on its own. You need something to get the heart to start beating again."

"Think faster, Granger," Allie grunted as she started doing chest compressions again, then, in a louder voice added. "And I had better _not_ be the only bloody person in the bloody hall who bloody well knows CPR until Granger came come up with something!"

"Cardiac arrhythmias such and ventricular fibrillation and ventricular tachycardia can be treated with defibrillation."

"_Granger!_"

"Um…an electrical impulse—"

"We're kneeling in water, Hermione!" Harry protested.

"I can help."

Harry turned as the same Ravenclaw Prefect from earlier, pushed through the ring of onlookers and knelt opposite Allie.

"Take over on compressions," Allie said between breaths.

"I'm taking over on compressions," the boy repeated.

"What else, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I don't know!" Hermione snapped at him. "I suppose somebody's created a spell for it but I don't know it."

"I should bloody well hope not," came a half-muttered response pitched just loud enough to carry over the roar of the rushing river as the crowd parted in front of a swan-shaped-hat-wearing medi-witch. "Sweet and Merciful Merlin," Madam Pomfrey whispered, then, in a clinically precise tone, asked, "status?"

"CPR has been going on for approximately three minutes," Allie said.

The Prefect looked up, "Broken right wrist and knee—"

"The superficial injuries can wait," Madam Pomfrey said severely and raised her wand. "Back away."

Harry tried to sit on his heels but fell back onto his butt into a puddle of freezing-cold water as a beam of soft blue-white light connected Madam Pomfrey's wand and Padma.

"Have a pulse," Allie reported, checking Padma as soon as the beam of light flickered out. "Still no—"

Padma lurched and started to choke. The Prefect and Allie rolled her over and Padma spewed water out onto the floor and Allie's robes.

"Hold her like that," Madam Pomfrey ordered, quickly conjuring up a stretcher before drying their robes with a flick of her wand.

"Get her legs," the Prefect told Harry.

"The girl is freezing cold," Harry heard Madam Pomfrey tell McGonagall as they rolled Padma onto the stretcher.

"I need access to my hospital wing as quickly as possible, Minerva." She paused and looked around. "And conjure some screens please; this isn't a carnival sideshow attraction!"

"Madam Pomfrey!" Another Prefect, a girl Harry didn't know with a Gryffindor badge, came running up.

"More injuries?" Pomfrey asked grimly.

"Nothing worse than a broken leg," the Prefect said. "We, uh, set up an aid station in that side room where First Years are held until they're ready to be Sorted."

"Well at least someone is showing some common sense," the medi-witch said. "Let us go. My Hospital Wing, Minerva, don't forget. Get me as soon as a way is clear, any way at all."

She hurried off, the stretcher following in her wake, and Parvati nearly dragging Hermione after.

"That was pretty quick thinking."

Harry turned.

"Drew Maylard," the Prefect said.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, offering his hand which the Prefect shook.

"Elissa Blackthorn, thanks for joining in."

"I never thought I'd need it." He saw Harry's confusion and explained, "My mum's muggleborn and she insisted I learn how to do stuff without magic as well as with." He gave a ruthful grin, "I can just hear her now, 'I told you so!'" he squawked. He shook his head, "The only place to really learn the high-end medical magic is if you apprentice as a Healer."

"Healer?" Harry asked.

"Sort of like a muggle doctor," the older boy said. "A lot of Healing magic is really easy to abuse. You have to know how curses work before you can undo them. That's about the width of a cat hair from being an expert in the Dark Arts. There are all sorts of magically binding Oaths to make sure that doesn't happen of course, but it also means that medi-witches and healers aren't capable of fighting, their oaths don't let them. Anyway, that's why you won't find any spells like Madam Pomfrey just did in the library, not even the Restricted Section."

"Oh," Harry said. "Is that what you're going to do?"

"Probably," he said, then shrugged. "Of course, I also have an offer from Miskatonic U to study trans-dimensional metaphysics," he grinned at them. "I hope your friend is all right," he added before wandering away.

They sat for several minutes, then Allie pushed herself up. "I guess I'll see you around, Harry."

"Allie, wait," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Can we…can we talk?"

She gave him a guarded look before slowly nodding her head. "Sure, don't think I can manage quiet or private, mind," she said, sweeping a hand out in a gesture that encompassed the roaring river and the noisy crowd of students that filled the Entrance Hall.

"That's fine," Harry said. "How about over here?" he walked over to where large blocks of stone were channeling the water out the main doors. McGonagall had left the hall and was carving out a river-bed that directed the water around and down into the little cave that served as a harbor for the charmed rowboats that had taken them across the lake months before. They sat down and Allie gave him an expectant look, but Harry didn't know where to start so he said nothing.

"Harry."

"How do you think she's going to be?" he asked quickly.

Allie gave him a look that clearly said that she knew that this wasn't what he wanted to talk about, but after a moment she shrugged. "I don't know. I know the mundanes have a couple of cases where a person wasn't breathing for a half-hour or more, but all of those involved emersion in really cold water. Like, frozen-over cold. I suppose it depends how long she wasn't breathing, how long her heart stopped, whether or not the water was cold enough or if she was in it long enough. She was breathing on her own, that's a good sign, and Madam Pomfrey is a fine medi-witch."

For Harry it was like things were almost back to normal. That the problems between him and Allie had never happened and they were just sitting in companionable silence. It reminded him of that first night, sitting in her flat after crisscrossing London and using a motel to take a saltwater bath to get rid of tracking magic.

"You can believe whatever you want, Harry," Allie told him after several minutes of silence. "All I knows is that I'm not your enemy, and neither I nor, to the best of my knowledge, Professor Snape are after whatever it is that Dumbledore has hidden away. If you can't open your mind to that possibility, you and your friends are going to be in a lot more danger than you are already…unless you think what happened to Padma was just an accident."

Harry stared at her. "You mean…you think someone did all of _this_," he gestured to the Grand Staircase Rapids, "just to beat up Padma?"

Allie gave him a look that coming from Hermione would have made him feel like he was being extra dense. But in that case it would have also been accompanied by a lecture. Allie just looked at him, and then explained.

"No," she said. "I know what caused the flooding and that was purely accidental and almost impossible to time accurately enough to be a set up. What I think is that someone saw an opportunity and tried to take advantage of it. I think Padma either saw who it was, or saw enough to figure it out, and that person or persons tried to kill her to keep it secret. Tried, and came very close to succeeding.

"Dumbledore is playing a dangerous game, Harry. We don't know who is on the other side, but we, the students, are caught between both and that is a very dangerous place for us to be. I fully intend to keep my head down."

"Allie," Harry said after a moment.

"Mmm?"

"About that night, back in September when we were doing that prank and I messed up with the circles. I saw…stuff."

She nodded slowly. "The third eye. It can cut through many illusions, even those made of flesh and blood that we show the world. It can allow you to see inside, see people as they really are."

"I saw you, you looked—"

Allie held up a hand and Harry paused. "Seeing someone like that is personal, Harry. And it's how you interpret what you see. What you see would be vastly different than what Granger would see, or Cedric would see."

"There she is!"

Harry blinked as Draco Malfoy glared down at them, pointing at Allie.

"She tried to kill me!"

Allie looked up and gave the other boy a baleful look.

"What do you want, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I," Malfoy said grandly, "challenge you to a duel."

"You cannot be serious," she said.

"Do you refuse my challenge?" Malfor sneered.

"I have no reason to accept," Allie said.

"She is quite correct," said a thin-faced boy that Harry didn't know, but who wore a Slytherin house badge. "First, an insult must have been offered. Second, you're supposed to send a letter first asking for an apology, or at the very least, leave it to the Seconds to sort out the particulars."

"She tried to murder me!" Malfoy cried.

"Still saying no."

Draco sneered, "When my father hears about this he'll make sure that—"

"Everyone who listens to him will wonder why Lucius Malfoy is bothering to slander a first year," Allie finished. "Those with two or more brain cells to rub together will figure out it's because his son is unable to do more than run to daddy when he doesn't get his way." She shook her head, "go away, Draco, before you make yourself look anymore foolish. If such a thing is possible."

Harry was taken aback. As much as he enjoyed seeing Malfoy being taken down a peg, he had never heard Allie talk down to anyone, or with such deep scorn in her voice.

"Affairs of Honor are private matters," Malfoy said loftily. "If anyone speaks of it, it shall not be a Malfoy. But know this, your affront to Malfoy Honor will not go unanswered."

"Affront to _Malfoy_ honor?" Zabini asked before Harry could asked Allie what Malfoy was talking about.

"Her rejection of my very generous offer—"

"Is _that_ what you are calling…_that_?" Allie spat, rocketing to her feet.

"Of course," Malfoy said, sounding rather puzzled.

Allie's hand clenched and for a moment it looked as though she were about to strike the other boy. "I admit," she said in very formal tones, "that it has been some time since I last read the Accords, but I seem to recall a duel being the Court of last resort. Used only when other methods of recourse are unable to resolve the situation. Is that not the case, Mr. Zabini?"

"It is," Zabini said.

"In that case gentlemen, if you will comes with me?"

Harry looked at Allie's retreating back, then at Zabini as he hurried after her. He didn't know the other boy well. Hufflepuff and Slytherin didn't have many shared classes and the other boy only rarely spoke in class. "What is going on?" he asked.

Zabini gave him a sideways look as they threaded through the milling students. "Malfoy's trying to back her into a duel."

"You mean a fight? With magic?" Harry asked.

"Formalized fight, yes." Zabini said, giving Harry an odd look.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Zabini shrugged. "Apparently he thinks she tried to kill him."

Harry wanted to ask more, but by that time Allie had found Professor McGonagall.

"What is it?" The Head of Gryffindor was unusually brisk as Allie approached.

"I need to speak with Professor Snape immediately," Allie said.

"Can't you see we are dealing with a crisis here, Ms. Blackthorn."

"The situation seems well in hand," Allie noted.

"Professor Snape is repairing the breach in the Slytherin common room, Ms. Blackthorn."

"Headmaster Dumbledore then."

"The Headmaster is with Professor Snape," McGonagall said. "Can this not wait?"

"No, Professor, it really cannot," Allie replied. "Mr. Malfoy gave me insult and—"

"We are in the middle of dealing with a flooding castle," Professor McGonagall said in a short, furious voice. "A number of your fellow students are injured, some of them severely. Ms. Patil is a close friend of yours, I believe. And you interrupt my time with this?"

"It was a truly vile and odious insult, madam," Zabini said in a lofty tone. "Positively obscene."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Zabini," Professor McGonagall said coolly. "I'm not sure what you want me to do about this, Ms. Blackthorn. But unless a Professor or a Prefect saw something there is little I can do."

"I see, Professor," Allie said seriously. "Thank you." Then, before Harry of even McGonagall could do anything, she whirled on her heel. Her fist started somewhere from the orbit of Mars, and a sharp _crack_ was heard over the rushing water as Malfoy was thrown to the floor.

"Allie!"

"Ms. Blackthorn!" McGonagall hissed. "In all of my years—_detention!_"

Harry gave the enraged transfiguration professor a nervous glance as Allie apparently ignored her to ask Zabini in a cool voice: "I believe that the Accords state that a blow can answer for an insult?"

"Indeed they do," Zabini allowed.

"Then a detention is worth it," Allie said, gingerly massaging her right hand. "We're even, Malfoy. Honor is satisfied. Do you wish for me to stop by your office once things have…gotten dryer to settle the particulars for that detention, Professor?"

"Detention? I demand she be expelled. I won't be satisfied with less."

Harry looked at Malfoy whose cheek was very pink and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he picked himself up off the floor.

"You cannot be serious."

"You physically assault another student, Ms. Blackthorn. And did it in front of the Deputy Headmistress," McGonagall observed coolly. "However, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Blackthorn's punishment has been settled."

"My father is on the Board of Governors," Malfoy said in a high-pitched voice that sounded to Harry to be very close to a whine. "When he finds out that you allowed a muggleborn to get away with attempted murder and only gave her a detention for assaulting—"

Harry watched with much the same horrified silence that makes people stop and stare at really bad vehicle accident. The temperature seemed to drop—though that could have been a side-effect of the icy-cold mist thrown up by the river streaming through the Entrance Hall—as Professor McGonagall looked ready to explode.

"Accepted."

Harry gave Allie a quizzical look as with that one word the tension not so much broke as it…shifted. McGonagall, who had looked ready to erupt, actually seemed to slightly stumble, and Malfoy was left looking very confused.

"What are you talking about, Blackthorn?" Malfoy asked.

"You demanded satisfaction, yes?" Allie asked. "I accept."

"Dueling on Hogwarts grounds is strictly forbidden," an unsmiling Professor McGonagall said sternly.

"I'm sure our Seconds will bear that in mind, Professor McGonagall. I wouldn't want to be accused of making light of Hogwarts' rules," Allie said seriously. "I believe that all of the proper forms are now in order, Mr. Zabini, and that our Seconds are supposed to see to the details?"

"Yes," Zabini said, giving the furious transfiguration teacher a furtive look. "That's correct."

"Your Second, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Goyle," Malfoy hissed. "Goyle will be my second."

"Mr. Zabini, I believe that I am accorded two?"

"Up to three, actually, Draco is as well."

"That's okay," Allie told him, "One is fi—"

"Allie," Harry cut in, "I'll be your Second, if you want."

Allie stopped and looked at him. "Seriously?"

"If you want," Harry said. "I, um, I'm not sure what I'd have to do…"

"Nothing much, really," Zabini said. "If his Seconds try to interfere we have to stop them, but we can find a good Master of the Field to make sure all of those particulars stay in order and I can see to the actual requirements of the duel itself. Mostly you'd just lend moral support."

Harry nodded. "As I was saying, Allie, if you want me."

"As amusing as Potter's ignorance is—"

"Malfoy, do be a dear, shut up and wait your turn," Allie said. She turned back to Harry. "If you're serious about it, then I'd be honored to have you." She gave Malfoy a sideways look, "Your most important job will be trying to convince him to apologize so that I don't have to kill him. His Second tries to get me to ignore the insults, but I doubt Goyle is capable of doing more than grunting."

"You'd kill him?" Harry blurted. "Seriously?"

"What exactly did you think you were getting yourself involved in, Mr. Potter? A round of fisticuffs?" McGonagall asked. "The Headmaster will not let this stand."

"Perhaps, Madam," Allie allowed.

"Two, then," Zabini said. "Do you have a second, Draco?"

Draco glared at him.

"In that case, I think we should select a potential Master of the Field," Zabini continued, shooting McGonagall another hesitant look. It appeared that the Professor was going to stand and observe for now, though only a fool couldn't tell she was unhappy about it.

"We shall ask Mr. Nott."

"Mr. Nott is a close associate of your father's, I believe," Allie replied. "Perhaps Professor Dumbledore."

"That old man would never agree," Malfoy said scornfully. "Professor Snape."

"Who just happens to be your Godfather," Zabini interjected. "Try to show yourself capable of some honor, man. Professor Flitwick."

"Fine!" Malfoy snapped and stalked away.

"So now what happens?" Harry asked.

McGonagall started to reply, but a shout drew all of their attention away. At the staircase at the top of the rapids, the water flow was reduced to a trickle, and then gone completely.

A moment later, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. He walked down the stairs, his wand swishing before him, drying out the stairs and floor while simultaneously vanishing the blocks that had directed the River Hogwarts out through the front doors.

"I believe, Professor McGonagall, we could do with canceling further classes for the day," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall gave him a pinched-lip frown.

The rest of the hall burst into applause.

"Yes, yes, well done to you all," Dumbledore said.

Madam Pomfrey, Harry saw, was already hurrying Padma out of the hall towards the hospital wing. Parvati was following close behind. The rest of the hall was likewise starting to empty, so Harry grabbed Allie's uninjured hand and pulled her towards the Hufflepuff common room.

"Not so fast."

A hand clamped on his shoulder stopping him in mid-flight.

"Is there a problem, Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore asked.

"These four were about to partake in a duel," McGonagall said severely.

"Dueling is expressly forbidden in the halls of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.

"A place hasn't been set yet," Allie said.

"Be that as it may, I am sure that this is all just a simple misunderstanding."

"She tried to kill me!" Malfoy screeched.

Dumbledore turned to Allie and Harry.

"She asked me to be her Second," Harry said quickly. "I'm apparently supposed to get him," he nodded towards Malfoy, "to apologize so that she doesn't have to kill him."

Dumbledore raised one bushy eyebrow and his eyes twinkled.

"She struck me!" Malfoy yelled.

"I can attest to that much, Headmaster," McGonagall said unhappily.

She was unhappy about the whole affair, but Harry thought she seemed to be particularly upset about having to take Malfoy's side.

"After you accused me of being an incompetent murderer," Allie said.

"There was a graphic insult, Headmaster," Zabini said in an _extremely_ formal tone, "of sufficient nature that Ms. Blackthorn was well within her rights to demand satisfaction of Mr. Malfoy. She did her utmost within honor to avoid such a necessity. Only when Mr. Malfoy challenged her, and then threatened to use the influence of his friends and relatives against Hogwarts, the Staff, and herself did she agree."

"What kind of insult could possibly warrant challenging an eleven year old boy?" McGonagall demanded.

Zabini half-bowed. "With respect, Madam, it was an insult so odious, so vile, that to utter it again even to report the conversation—"

Allie crossed her arms. "He said that if I was nicer to him and did all of his magical-theory homework in charms and transfiguration that he'd let me have the honor of being his second mistress once he graduated."

Dumbledore's mouth disappeared into his bushy mustache and beard. He didn't seem to know what to say, which, Harry suspected, probably didn't happen all that often.

"You didn't," McGonagall said, her lips pressed even tighter than Harry remembered them being on Halloween as she gave Malfoy her most stern look.

"I didn't say anything about her cheating for me," Malfoy sniffed. "Besides, my father says that every wizard of good standing should have at least three or four."

Harry relaxed slightly as the two professors focused on Malfoy and Allie's familiar smirk returned.

"He actually said this to you?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes," Allie said seriously. "The homework was, I admit, only implied, but the rest was said out loud…in the Slytherin common room…in front of witnesses. I was getting ready to demand an apology when the window that looked out into the lake gave way."

"While that is ground for a formal duel, it is hardly fair to challenge an eleven year old boy."

"Allie didn't challenge him, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "As Zabini said, Malfoy challenged her, for the attempted murder thing, I think."

"I had planned to ask only for an apology," Allie allowed. "I hoped to come to you or Professor Snape so that things wouldn't be so…public, but Professor McGonagall made it clear that both you and he were…unavailable."

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a grudging nod.

"But she refused to address the matter of the insult since neither a Professor nor a Prefect witnessed it, and then Mr. Malfoy accused me of attempted murder. I admit that I struck him then, for the insults had come so close together and were so much to bear. She gave me detention for it, which I will gladly submit to."

McGonagall gave another grudging nod.

"You will apologize for the blow?" Dumbledore said.

"Certainly, in full accordance with the Code," Allie said.

"You will?" Harry asked. "But I thought—"

"The Code requires that the first apology must be for the first insult, and that all apologies come in the order of subsequent insults," Zabini offered. He turned to Harry and added, "That's why our job, Potter, is so important."

Harry turned to Dumbledore expectantly. If first insult offered was the first apologized to, the Headmaster could order Malfoy to apologize and then Allie could, and this whole matter could be cleaned up without anyone getting hurt. Well, other than Malfoy after getting hit by Allie.

"Draco is much too young to be issuing a challenge," Dumbledore said slowly.

"But not too young to issue gross insults?" Allie asked.

Harry hesitated, then moved over to Zabini. "I'm not even sure what the insult was about," he admitted in a low tone.

"A mistress is sort of like a wife, but without any legitimacy," the Slytherin told him in a low voice. "Some wizards have them, but in polite society they are ignored. A second mistress would be regarded even less well than the first. I'm not sure if she'd told you this, but Blackthorn's family is old. _Really_ old."

"Thanks."

Zabini nodded to him. "This really caught you cold, didn't it? I mean, the Potters are another old family, even if they didn't run in the same circles."

"I wasn't raised by my parents so…" Harry shrugged. "Can we really get involved in duels? I mean, I hardly know any magic."

"That's the Headmaster's point, and normally I wouldn't think so. Or at least there aren't any of us stupid enough to do so. There are rules to make things fair which means that mostly people our age don't get involved with duels. If Blackthorn had challenged Malfoy it would probably be dismissed. Dueling as a whole is really seen as outdated these days anyway, or at least it is by a lot of wizards and witches. But Malfoy challenged her and the insult really was graphic, not to mention that whole thing about his father being one of the Governors"

Harry nodded and turned back to where Allie was talking to Dumbledore.

"…the responsibility of the Head of his House to apologize when he makes such an egregious violation of all codes of public decency."

"She doesn't mean Snape, does she?" he asked to Zabini.

"Lucius Malfoy, Malfoy's father and the Head of House Malfoy," Zabini said with a shake of his head.

"There are other options."

"A champion," Allie said mildly. "I'm sure Lucius Malfoy can hire the best."

Now it was Malfoy's turn to smirk at Harry.

"Oh, that was low," Zabini muttered.

"What?"

"She implied that Lucius would hire a, well, what's known as a professional duelist. Since she's only a first year, apprenticed or not, it'd be murder-for-hire, basically. Insulting and very, very illegal. Probably about right, though."

Harry didn't like the situation, not one bit. A glance at McGonagall made him pretty sure that she felt much like he did. Malfoy's father had loads of money. He could find and hire a 'champion' that would certainly be able to kill Allie.

"And do you think that he won't do just that?" Dumbledore asked.

"If Malfoy is too young to issue a challenge—"

"I am _not_ too young!"

"—then what need is there for a champion? A parent remains, however, responsible for ill-chosen words of their child." She glanced sideways at Malfoy. "Either Mr. Malfoy can apologize, or the _senior_ Mr. Malfoy can make a public apology for his son's insult."

"Apologize for what?" Malfoy asked. "Fine, so I should have gone to Professor Snape. That doesn't change the fact that she tried to kill me, and when my father hears about this—"

"_Enough!_" Allie snapped. "_I_ am the insulted and challenged party. I am going to have to insist that any apology _he_ makes is formal and public."

"There is another option, Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall said quickly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"If the professors dealt with the initial situation?" she suggested.

"That would be acceptable, Professor," Allie said. "Provided it was dealt with firmly enough, that some statement regarding the egregious insult was made so the people know _why_, and that Malfoy, and his father, agree. In writing. By your leave, Headmaster?"

Harry watched her turn and stalk away before Dumbledore could respond.

"You expect me to apologize to _that_?" Malfoy sneered. "When my father hears about how she attempted to murder me and you let her get away with it—"

"_Mister_ Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his voice rolling like distant thunder. "While your father does indeed sit on the Board of Governors, _I_ am Headmaster of Hogwarts. You would do will to remember that. I have returned from the Slytherin House and determined that the failure of the window was an accident, a relatively harmless one considering some of the accidents that have happened in classes past and will happen in classes yet to come, and that there was no malice involved." He paused and looked at Harry. "You can go, Harry, Mr. Zabini."

"Come on," Zabini said.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, following the other boy across the hall.

"We need to talk to Professor Flitwick."

The diminutive charms professor was overseeing the removal of the blocks and shields that had channeled the River Hogwarts, and the drying of the former riverbed.

"Professor Flitwick?" Zabini asked.

Flitwick look from Zabini, then to Harry, and back. "Is something the trouble, boys?"

"Can we talk in private, sir?" Zabini asked.

Flitwick put a seventh year Ravenclaw Prefect—the same one that had helped Allie with CPR, Harry noted—in charge and led them over to the same room that he had waited in three and a half months before while waiting to be Sorted. There were a couple of potion vials and some conjured bandages laying around, and in one corner was Bryce's cart with its steaming cauldrons, all the evidence that remained of its use as a temporary medical ward.

"What is it?" Flitwick happened.

"Draco Malfoy challenged Elissa Blackthorn to a duel," Zabini said. "They've agreed to ask you to be the Master of the Field."

"Stars and Stones…why?" Flitwick asked. "Tell me everything?"

"Malfoy insulted her. It was…really bad. The Headmaster knows, but it isn't the kind of thing…" he shrugged.

"Understandable," Flitwick said softly.

"Anyway, that was the window that looks into the lake blew."

"Afterwards, Malfoy came up to us and accused Allie of trying to murder him with it, the exploding window and the water I mean," Harry added. "Professor Dumbledore says that that was an accident."

"Malfoy tried to challenge her for that. I think he just wanted a straight-out fight without any sort of official rules," Zabini added.

"That is hardly grounds for a duel, boys," Flitwick said sternly.

"I know, sir," Zabini said. "But the initial insult remained and when we went to Professor McGonagall Malfoy…made comments about this father being on the Board of Governors."

Harry frowned, remembering another point that seemed very important to him. "We're supposed to try and convince Malfoy to apologize so she can apologize for slapping him and we can all walk away from this,"

"And you want me to make sure that if your negotiations for apologies fail that all of the appropriate forms are followed at the duel itself?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"Essentially."

"And you both are Seconds to Ms. Blackthorn?"

"Correct, sir," Zabini said.

"I can do nothing until I am contacted by Mr. Malfoy's Seconds, of course," Flitwick said. "After that I am going to need to think about it for a few days at least. I will certainly need to talk with the Headmaster so that I can take a temporary leave since, as a Professor of Hogwarts, I am not allowed to take part in any duels in any role. But if I am convinced of the rightness of it, I will surely consider it."

"Thank you, Professor, that's all we can ask," Zabini said quickly.

"Well," the other boy told Harry once they were out of the room. "I'm going to need to talk with my mother. I've never really examined all of the Accords. She, however, was in a duel a couple of years ago so she should know the relevant parts."

"I'll let Hedwig know so that we can stay in contact."

"Hedwig? Oh, is that the name of your owl?" Zabini asked. "Don't bother, I can use one of the family owls to get post here."

"All right then," Harry said.

"Something wrong?"

"I guess," Harry stopped. "Yes, I don't know what is going on. I mean, I know what, what I don't understand is _why_."

"Ooh boy," Zabini said. "You remember how I said that dueling was considered old-fashioned?"

Harry nodded.

"Well Malfoy's father is a traditionalist, and the Malfoys are one of the oldest, richest, and most influential families in the country. The Thornes—that's her real last name."

"I'm not sure it is," Harry said. "She said something about only the head of family and her immediate family being called Thorne—"

Zabini nodded. "My point is the Thornes are _the_ oldest family in the country. They're wealthy and powerful, but they keep to themselves so no one really knows how wealthy and most of that influence is theoretical."

Harry nodded.

"Back in Merlin's time it wasn't uncommon for two wizards who were upset with each other to fight it out. That's how the muggles got their stories of wizards shooting spells at each other. As the risk of our world being exposed grew, duels became less popular. There's actually an international effort underway to get them banned. For now, however, they still remain a legal recourse.

"But because they _are_ a legal recourse, it means other legal avenues are closed once a challenge has been accepted. The Wizengamot can't put her on trial for attempted murder, for example, even if there was enough evidence for them to try. It doesn't matter if she wins, he wins, or they both apologize and drop the challenge. Likewise she can't file suit against Malfoy for slander over the insult."

"I can get most of that," Harry said. "But why did she hit him? I mean, she didn't just haul off, it was thought out and deliberate, and in front of a teacher."

"The Accords govern all aspects of duels. They outline what grounds are appropriate, the roles Seconds play, the role of the Master of the Field, how grounds and implements are to be chosen… They're complex, and a lot of things need to happen, or _not_ happen, to get to the point where a duel is actually fought. Most challenges are resolved well before it comes to actually fighting a duel."

"So they try to keep things from getting to the point of a duel?" Harry asked.

"Exactly."

"How does that make sense? Wait, it tries to limit the number of duels so the mundanes have less chance of noticing us, right?"

"Got it in one," Zabini said with a nod. "To get back to your question though, there is a…scale. There are levels and degrees of insult, is something personally insulting, does it insult a host, does it insult a family's honor… As I said, the insult was sufficient that if she wanted Allie _could_ have challenged Malfoy, she demanded an apology, which can satisfy all insults though depending on degree the insulted party can make certain conditions."

"Public," Harry said.

Zabini nodded. "It became too public for a simple apology, so she tried to underplay it by answering the insult with a blow. If Malfoy had been smart he'd have taken it and kept his mouth shut and she would have served the detention from McGonagall. From what my mother's told me, the current Mistress of Thornes would be _really_ pissed about it, but wouldn't really be able to do anything."

"But Malfoy threatened to go to his father who is on the Board of Governors," Harry said.

"And that's a big no-no," Zabini said. "Going to outside parties to influence decisions like that is a major breach of the Accords. By accepting Malfoy's challenge she prevented Malfoy from withdrawing the remark and made it look like she was accepting to spare the Hogwarts staff. And in the same blow she made the Malfoy family owe _her_ for preserving _their_ honor from Malfoy's mistake. Not only that, it spares them any legal difficulties from the incident should anyone decide to try pressing charges."

\|/\|/\|/

Inquiring of the Fat Friar as he passed the ghost in the corridor led Harry to a back corner table in the library where Allie was sitting with a rather large book. Her right hand was wrapped in bandages. After observing her for a few minutes, Harry walked over and sat down.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, gesturing to her hand.

"Bruised a couple of bones, the bandages can come off tomorrow." She looked up at him, "I suppose I really messed things up."

"Dumbledore said that the window in Slytherin was an accident," Harry said. "That's a good thing, right?"

Allie shrugged. "Malfoy's dad is on the Board of Governors. Accepting the challenge was probably a little much, but…" she shrugged again.

"So now what?" Harry asked, sitting down across from her.

"I thought Dumbledore was going to make Malfoy apologize, but that doesn't look like it's happening. I hope the Profs come up with a way out," Allie said. "If not, maybe Malfoy really will apologize."

"So you really don't want to have to fight him," Harry said. "I wondered."

"I don't want to _kill_ him," Allie said grimly. "I can't use thaumaturgy in a duel. There's no way he's stupid enough to give me that kind of time during one and it'd be against the rules and all sense of decency to try setting up something before." She rolled up her sleeve to expose the rune-inscribed metal band Harry had only seen once before. "I'm not sure my control is good enough that I could wound him enough to end a duel. Not without risking killing him."

"What if you apologized and bowed out?" Harry asked.

"I'd do it in a heartbeat if I could," Allie said with a hollow laugh. "But I don' think I can without my grandmother would get involved. I _really_ do not want her getting involved."

"Because she hates you?"

"Because she hates the Malfoys even more than she hates me," Allie said. "Something personal. She is…a very hateful person. She savors her grudges. She nurses them until they die of old age, then she has them stuffed and mounted and sits in her room surrounded by them, recalling each like they are old friends."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "If you don't want to kill Malfoy, and don't think your grandmother would let you out of it by apologizing, why get involved in a duel in the first place?"

"It's…complicated," Allie said. Harry didn't reply, and after a moment she sighed. "When Malfoy said what he did, I was so angry that even with the bindings my magic flared enough that Hogwarts' wards…flickered. They absorbed it rather than it lashing out with…terrible results. As a result the magic that held the glass firm, that kept the lake from shattering it…gave slightly. Once the first piece went the rest cascaded."

"So…you really did flood the Slytherin common room," Harry said slowly. "Unintentionally," he added quickly when she glared at him.

"People almost died. Padma _was_ dead, for all intents and purposes," Allie said coldly, "I don't consider it funny."

Harry nodded slowly, "All right. I'm sorry."

She nodded tightly. "If I had thought Dumbledore would seriously have forced an apology out of him, I probably wouldn't have hit him. But…I wasn't sure that he would. I know he doesn't like or trust me, and I don't think the Lady of Thornes frightens him the way she does most people. I'm not sure if he knows more, or less, or just doesn't care…"

"Zabini called her the 'Mistress of Thornes'," Harry noted.

"Either is correct," Allie said. "It has to do with the Head of Family, but also more, there's Magic caught up in the title." She shook her head, "And I really don't want to spend a couple of hours talking about my family. Suffice to say that she could make a lot of peoples' lives miserable, especially mine. And she loathes the Malfoy family even worse than she does me. If Dumbledore _didn't_ force that apology and I did nothing to answer the insult she could have told me to issue a challenge, or she could declare a blood-feud with the Malfoys and that would get really messy, or she could do worse.

"Hitting Malfoy was an attempt to settle things short of a duel. My Grandmother would have been pissed about it, but she wouldn't have done anything. And, honestly, I was so angry that I could feel the Bindings beginning to…slip."

Harry thought about this for a bit. There were obviously some major things influencing this, likely part of the family history she didn't want to talk about. And even if he did know it, it would only tell him why this was happening, not how to stop it. Still, if her grandmother was the driving force, perhaps Allie could remove herself from it somehow? "Can't you just ignore your grandmother, or have her kick you out of the family or something?"

"I don't think you quite realize what you're asking," Allie said dryly. "And I already thought about it and the answer is no. If we were talking about nearly any other of the old Pureblood families, I could go ahead and do just that. I'm not sure I _would_, mind, but the possibility would exist. But as far as the Thornes are concerned, no, she can't kick me out, and I can't kick myself out or just up and leave. Truth be told, I've gotten a great deal of satisfaction knowing that I'm going to get the last laugh in her little feud with me when she finally dies and I become the Lady of Thornes. Change the subject, Harry."

"Okay…what's that book you're reading?"

"A treatise by an early eighteenth century German alchemist named Dippel."

"Oh," Harry said, vaguely. It sounded like something Hermione or Padma (maybe) would pick up. "Interesting?"

"Not really."

"Did you study a lot of alchemy?"

"Not really," Allie said again. "I dabble a little, but that's about it. Alchemy is about a quest, really, and the end product isn't something that holds much interest for me. I use it from time to time when I need a precursor agent or something for a potion, but that's it."

"So Alchemy is like Potions?"

"It's…" Allie frowned and looked at him. "I suppose it's similar in method to Potions, but what it's trying to accomplish is different. Sort of like the difference between cooking and baking, one an art the other a science," She rose and walked three steps to a bookshelf and pulled out a book which she flipped open on the table and turned around so Harry could see it.

On the page in front of him was what looked like a stone tablet with a poem in seven stanzas carved into it.

"'tis true without lying, aye 'tis most certain and true," he read. "That which is above is also below, as that which's below is also above, and so they accomplish the Miracle of the One Thing."

He looked up at Allie, "just what does that mean?"

She laughed. "That, Harry, is the Emerald Tablet. It describes the Primordial Substance and its transmutations.

"It's… Alchemy in all of its forms comes down to one thing. It's a quest for knowledge. If you are able to perfect your understanding of alchemy, you will become empowered with the understanding to successfully complete the quest. The mundanes think it is a philosophical construct, but on at least three occasions in history has that construct been given form."

"What does it make?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Allie said. "No, excuse me, the Primordial Substance that the Tablet describes is something that everything comes out of. The end-point of Alchemy, the end of the quest, is the Philosopher's Stone, which is a construct that can warp the laws of transfiguration and turn base metals into gold, and produces the elixir of life. Age does not touch the imbiber of the elixir, nor can pestilence afflict them."

"Neat," Harry said, peering down at the book.

"Do you really think so?" Allie asked. "This isn't some potion that you can throw together in a few hours. It is a Quest, a serious old-school Quest. People have spent their entire lives, thrown fortunes into it, and found nothing. In the end, like the other great Quests—the Holy Grail, the Golden Fleece, Psyche's search for Cupid, Soria Moria—those that find what they are seeking are the ones who have proved themselves worthy of discovering it. And of those who are worthy of the Stone, most don't bother pursuing it to the end because they'll have found out something about themselves and found that understanding is more valuable than gold and eternal life."

Harry frowned as something profound itched at the back of his mind. Something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but that he knew was important. After a minute of trying to figure out what it was, he set it aside and looked up at Allie, and in that moment the past month seemed to melt away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About the past month. I…we weren't fair to you."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Weasley had a point, and I could have handled it better."

"You shouldn't have had to," Harry said.

Allie snorted, "Which was about all the point I tried to make. I still could have handled it better."

They traded looks, then both slowly smiled.


	16. Chapter 16: Mirror, Mirror

**Chapter 16: Mirror, Mirror**

"The mirror on my wall casts an image dark and small,  
But I'm not sure at all it's my reflection."  
-Paul Simon, 'Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall'

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Christmas Eve found Harry sitting on one of the extremely comfortable couches in the Hufflepuff Common Room reading _The Once and Future King_. There was a huge log, so big that Harry hadn't been able to put his arms around it, slowly burning in the fireplace. Runes had been inscribed in it, and Bryce had explained to all the first years before most of the school had boarded the Hogwarts Express how similar logs were traditionally burned for blessings of prosperity and for protection against evil.

With a tired sigh he set the book aside and stared at the fire. If he had been asked lst year, he would have said that he could never imagine not being lonely. Since meeting Allie—and wasn't _that_ a strange present for Dudley's birthday?—he would have said that he could never imagine feeling lonely again. Two months living with the Patils, another three and a half sharing a dormitory with four other boys, had made him very used to having other people around.

But Hufflepuff Sett had been deserted. Tonks and Justin back to their respective families in London, Cedric who lived not far from the Weasleys, Ernie back to…actually, he wasn't quite certain where Ernie lived but he knew that the pureblood boy had an extensive family. A pair of seventh years had stayed behind to study for the N.E.W.T.s that were given at the end of the year, and there were a few others that Harry recognized by sight if not by name, but Harry doubted that there were a dozen Hufflepuffs left..

Most students, Cedric had told him on the carriage ride as he went to see his friends off, usually stayed for at least one Hogwarts Christmas. But it wasn't unusual for Hufflepuffs to have the least number of students staying in the castle, and this year was even sparser than usual.

Still, even without his friends he hadn't been nearly as lonely as he had expected. By the time the Express huffed out of the Hogsmead station and the carriages (and the few students who had gone along to see friends off) returned to the school, volunteer boards had been placed in the Entrance Hall awaiting them. None of them were actually _required_ to do anything, but some infectious spirit in the air, or perhaps a potion in the pumpkin juice, had everyone pitching in.

The castle had been cleaned until it glowed. Hagrid had taken a handful of students out into the forest to pick out trees, which had then been hitched to white horses and dragged back to the castle. Hagrid, easily the biggest person in the castle, had done most of the work of dragging the trees to where they would be stood as magic was traditionally not allowed for that task. But decorating was wholly magical. Professor Flitwick had conjured snow for on top of branches and taught Harry how freeze water into icicles that didn't melt and to make tiny little glowing wizard lights. McGonagall had gone about conjuring stars for on top of the trees, and taught students to magically join popped corn and string to make garlands. Even Snape had contributed little glass balls filled with bright bubbling liquids or glowing gasses. Boxes of glass balls, tinsel, candy canes, and other decorations appeared, and Harry found all sorts of interesting uses of the levitation charm as he set about decorating. Garlands appeared strung across all of the corridors. Wreaths appeared, literally overnight, on all of the doors in the castle. And the scent of burning pine logs and baking Christmas cookies filled the air.

The High Lords of Chaos had spent several weeks putting Santa suits on all of the suits of armor and jaunty little red hats with big white pompoms on the gargoyles manning the battlements. Three days before Christmas Harry snuck out after curfew and went around the castle using the basic counter-charm to drop the concealment spells Tonks and Cedric had put on them.

Perhaps signing their work—each Santa-armor had a big belt buckle emblazoned HLC—was a bit too much, because the Weasley twins took it as a challenge and holly began to grow throughout the school. It snaked its way up the legs of the tables, benches, and chairs in the Great Hall. It wounds its way up the banisters of the Grand Staircase. It grew up the Quidditch goal posts until they looked like a cross between lollipops and trees from a distance. It lay siege to and overcame the west wall. And one evening it found a toehold on the lintel of Professor Quirrell's bedroom door and grew so thick that it took Hagrid half a day with an axe to free him.

In the evenings they'd sit in the Great Hall and drink hot spiced pumpkin juice and other seasonal drinks, or he'd go to Gryffindor Tower and he and Ron would sit up late and tell each other ghost stories and old wizarding Christmas tales while toasting any food that could be toasted (and several that couldn't) in front of roaring fires. One night, asked along by the Fat Friar, he and Ron had gone caroling around the castle and received baleful glares from Snape, Christmas cookies from a tartan tin from McGonagall, and tea and rock cakes from Hagrid.

At night, great blazing fires could be seen deep in the forest that Hagrid told them were the Yule bonfires that the centaurs used to celebrate the turning of the year. During the day, from the comfort of Hagrid's hut where they had paused to warm frozen fingers and toes, Hogwarts castle took on the appearance of a castle trapped in a snow globe.

"Fancy a go?" Ron asked.

Harry looked over to where his friend was gesturing to the wizard chess board in front of him. Wizard chess was just like normal chess, Harry had discovered, except that the pieces could talk and move on their own and the players directed them around the board like generals directing troops on a miniature battlefield.

Harry had invited his friend to spend the night in the Hufflepuff Sett. In deference to those who had stayed to study, they had kept the celebration to a dull roar. Ron had dragged along his brothers, and Fred and George Weasley who he knew better as the Gryffindor beaters had put on a stunning show of magical tricks and pranks. Wands had transformed into rubber chickens. Real chickens had been pulled out of conjured hats only to really be rabbits pretending to be chickens. There were self-tricking cards that could read your mind and daggers and flaming torches that would juggle themselves.

Percy, Ron's oldest brother in Hogwarts, had been unwillingly dragged in by the twins. For a moment it had seemed like he was going to take points and storm off, but instead he thanked Harry for inviting them and found a corner that suited his purpose where he curled up with an advanced transfiguration text.

Padma and Parvati had both gone home. From their letters he knew that Padma had regained consciousness and was healing well, but had no memory of what they were sure was a deliberate attack. They reported that Dumbledore had told their parents that magic had been traced to outside the Forbidden Corridor, along with evidence that Padma had been severely beaten there. Most of the evidence amounted to the fact that spell-work had been used to clean the area, and they had been unable to identify her attacker.

"Not tonight, Ron," Harry said, recalling how his last game ended. The King and a handful of pieces trapped in a shrinking pocket as Ron's encircling pieces shattered them one by one.

Ron shrugged and tapped one particularly blood-thirsty knight to command the opposition force. The sounds of the fray had leant a particularly unChristmas-like feel to the room.

\|/ \|/ \|/

Harry woke Christmas morning to see that sometime during the night several large piles of presents had been set under the tree in the center of the common room.

"Happy Christmas," he said to Ron who was crawling out of his sleeping bag.

"Mmm?" Ron asked blurrily, but then seemed to remember what day it was and brightened considerably. "Happy Christmas, Harry. Ohh, presents."

Harry bundled into his bathrobe though the fire in the hearth had warded off most of the chill of night, and sank into one of the comfortable couches. The other Weasleys were awake as well, and he watched as they also pulled on robes and moved their piles so that they could open them together. They traded jokes back and forth, and even though Ron was clearly impatient to rip open his packages they took turns and showed off what each had received.

It was almost like being a part of a real family.

Dudley had always ripped open his packages straight away and loudly complained if he hadn't gotten something he wanted or hadn't received as many gifts as he was expecting and _never_ got his parents anything. Petunia always had a pinched look as she slit open her packages, and then immediately went around cleaning up the bits of torn paper, while Vernon grunted as he opened his and wagged his mustache.

"Aren't you going to open yours, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I've got presents?" Harry asked.

"What did you expect, turnips?" Ron asked in reply.

"No," Harry said. "It's just…" he shrugged, "since Ernie and Justin and the rest all went home for the holiday, we all agreed to exchange presents when they came back."

"Huh, wonder who these are from then," Ron said.

Carefully, as though a sudden movement could break the strange magic that the Weasley brothers had called into being, Harry moved to sit on the floor next to Ron, pulling over a small pile of wrapped parcels.

"Well?" one of the twins asked. "Go on," encouraged the other.

Harry picked up a long, thin parcel that was on top. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and tied with twine. Scrawled on it was _TO HARRY FROM HAGRID_. He eased the twine off of it and the paper fell away to reveal a rough, hand-carved flute. Hesitantly he put his fingers over the holes, conscious of the other four people watching him, and blew experimentally. It looked and felt rough, half-finished almost, but it fit his hands perfectly and the sound was like bird calls.

He received a box of chocolate frogs from Hermione and felt a little guilty as he remembered that he had forgotten to tell her about the planned gift exchange, but resolved to send her a letter after breakfast. Ron got a big box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans from her. Then Percy opened up a new quill and the twins shared a package with some kind of magical device that involved several metal balls and a lot of pieces of twisted silvery wire that Harry couldn't make heads or tails of but apparently greatly pleased them.

Ron gave him a Chuddley Cannons poster complete with pictures of little people on brooms that flew around it. Harry gave him a box of chocolate frogs, and the fifty pence piece his Aunt and Uncle had sent and Ron had been enamored by.

Percy sighed as he flipped it over in his hands before passing it on to Fred and George to examine. "Don't let father see it."

"Why?" Harry asked. "It isn't…bad or anything, because it's muggle-made, I mean."

"Oh no, nothing like that," Percy said.

"Dad's really taken by muggles," Ron said as the pence piece came back to him. "Wonders at all the stuff they can do without magic. He collects stuff. Spark plugs and batteries, mostly. He has a whole shed full of stuff. A lot of it we're pretty sure that even he doesn't know what it is."

"Oh," Harry said.

There was a soft ringing of bells, and he turned as Allie stuck her head into the room.

And just like that the moment was broken.

"You!" Ron spat, jumping to his feet.

Fred and George also got up, but Harry couldn't tell if it was because Ron got up or they sensed an impending fight. Percy sighed and also got up; looking like he really wanted to say something only he didn't know what to say.

Harry didn't know what to say either. He had invited her to spend Christmas in the sett, but she had turned it down once she learned that Ron was going to be there.

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded.

A brief flicker of annoyance flashed across her face before she schooled it into a polite mask. "I came to say Happy Christmas to my friend, Weasley," she said coolly.

"Harry—"

But now it was Allie's turn to cut him off. "Quiet," she said sharply. She took a deep breath and continued before Ron could overcome his momentary silence. "Harry asked me to spend Christmas Eve here, and I turned him down when I realized you were going to be here because I didn't think you could resist starting a fight. You are _not_ going to ruin this day, Weasley. It's too important for that."

Ron started to reply, but before Harry could say anything, Percy put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. Ron glared at him, but a frown and a tight shake of his head made Ron cross his arms and look at Allie in silent disgust.

Allie reached into the satchel she carried and came out with a book that she handed to Harry.

It was heavy, with a brown leather cover that was decorated with an intricate gold design on the cover. He flipped through it to discover pictures of carefully arranged advanced potion equipment and carefully inscribed magical circles and lists of specific prepared items.

"I'm sorry, I'm not, ah, much good at wrapping presents," she said.

Harry, who had been wrapping most of the presents at the Dursleys since he was five, could remember his earlier attempts at wrapping presents under the careful eye of Aunt Petunia and what had usually followed after. "It's great," he said. "This is alchemy, right?" he asked, pausing near the end of the book to examine one particularly complex arrangement of fires, cauldrons, glass spheres, and mystical sigils.

"It's a good introductory text," she said. "There's a copy of the Emerald Tablet in the back if you get serious about it. Alchemists are supposed to keep a copy of it hanging on the wall of their labs."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Wait a moment, I have something for you." He went back to the pile under the tree, the one that contained everything he'd gotten for his friends, and found her present.

Allie took it, glanced at the Weasleys, and turned very pointedly to Harry as she slit open the neatly wrapped paper. It too was a leather-bound book, though without the fancy detailing. "Silversteri Stillwater's Sigil Compendium," she read from the title page before looking up. "Thank you, Harry," she said.

Harry couldn't help it. Despite the tension in the room he grinned. He had known exactly what Allie had gotten for him just like she knew what he'd gotten for her. Faced with the prospect of his first Christmas with friends he'd also found himself with a situation he hadn't expected to ever have except maybe in the distant far-off future where he had been free of the Dursleys and maybe had a family of his own. Cedric had first mentioned Owl-mail order catalogs back when they were deciding what broom to get him, but it was Allie who had shown him how to use them and get the money taken from his vault at Gringotts, all without ever leaving the castle.

From the way Ron had reacted, his first attempt at Christmas shopping had been a success.

"Want to come in and stay a while?" Harry asked.

Allie looked sideways towards Ron.

"This is Hufflepuff," Harry said. "You're my friend, Allie."

The girl looked back at him and nodded silently.

But even though she sat on one of the couches well away from the Weasley brothers, the magical feeling of being part of a family was lost. Ron huffed and moved back to his stack of presents and no longer seemed as happy as he'd been moments before. Fred and George both looked like they wanted to do something though neither knew quite what. As for Percy, he'd open his mouth, start to say something, then think better of it and close his mouth again. Even the discovery of the hand-knitted sweater and homemade fudge that Mrs. Weasley had sent him didn't begin to bring it back and the twins and Percy left shortly after.

Harry flicked a wadded up piece of gaily colored paper and flicked it towards a waste-parchment bin, but came up short. Ten years of living with the Dursleys had left him with a need to keep things neat and tidy and so, with a sigh, he got to his feet and went after it. "C'mon," he said, "let's get this cleaned up."

Ron looked like he was going to object, but Allie had grabbed another bin to help Harry and after a moment of indecision decided that he couldn't let the Slytherin get the better of him. He grabbed up a big pile of wrapping paper, crushing it together. But it didn't crush. Absent-mindedly discarding wrapping paper back onto the floor he uncovered another parcel wrapped in yellow paper with bright, glittering, purple stars.

"Hey, Harry?" he called. "I found another present. It has your name on it."

"It does?" Harry asked, accepting the package.

Sure enough, it did.

"I don't know who it could be from," Harry muttered, flipping it over.

"Well?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at him.

"Go on," Ron said. "Open it."

Harry slit open the paper and something fluid and silvery-grey went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped and Allie froze, staring at it.

"I've heard of those," Ron said as Harry reached down and picked it up. "If it's what I think it is, it's really rare, and _really_ valuable."

"What do you think it is?" Harry asked as he rubbed the fabric in his hands. It felt like water, like someone had spun cobwebs, wood smoke, and evening twilight into cloth, and when the light struck it just right he could see runes and sigils weaved into the cloth by alternating the texture.

"It's a cloak of invisibility," Allie whispered.

"Try it on," Ron all but shouted at him.

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and immediately Ron cried out.

"It is one! See?"

Harry looked down to see that his body had vanished. He dashed to the mirror and pulled the hood over his head. His head vanished as well.

"There's a note," Allie said.

Harry pulled back the hood as she opened it.

"'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Happy Christmas to you.'"

Allie passed him the note and he quickly read it to see that, yes, it was unsigned, but also that it was written in a curious loopy hand.

"I'd give _anything_ for one of these cloaks," Ron said. "_Anything_. What's the matter, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, unable to reply. Who had sent the note? Why was it unsigned? Had the cloak really once belonged to his father?

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The few Hufflepuffs all sat together at one end of the long table for the Christmas Feast. The other tables were likewise empty-looking compared to the meals that had been severed there, but all of the other houses had had a great many more students stay than Hufflepuff did.

There were gooses and turkeys and large hams at every table, and the Weasley twins paraded in with a great roasted pig's head with an apple in its mouth as they sang at the tops of their voices in mangled Latin. There were mountains of mashed potatoes and tureens of buttered green peas. Silver boats laden with thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce rowed and sailed their respective ways up and down the tables.

Wizard crackers were stacked in high piles between every plate. These were nothing like the mundane varieties with flimsy prizes and paper hats. In short order one of the Weasley twins was wearing a rear admiral's hat, Dumbledore had traded his pointed wizard cap for a flower bonnet, and Harry had found himself with a shako that Samuel Goodfry whose father was a muggle historian identified as being from the 95th Rifle Regiment from the cap badge. More crackers exploded like cannons and white mice were sent scurrying for shelter and a brand new Wizarding chess set and a package of Buster Broobles' Blow-Your-Own Bubbles quickly piled up next to Harry's plate.

Once the plates were clear of the goose and turkey and mashed potatoes and all the rest of the main course, great flaming plum puddings appeared on the table. The older Hufflepuffs traded grins and desert forks were raised in salute.

That evening, after a tiring snowball fight with the Weasleys and turkey sandwiches and Christmas cakes for supper, Harry collapsed onto his bed and picked up the cloak. It had, without question, been the best Christmas that he could remember having. But through it all he had never had a chance to really think about the cloak.

He sat on his bed rubbing the material, now shimmering like moonlight and light as air. His father's cloak. Who had had it? Why had they had it? Why now? Abruptly he threw it around his shoulders and almost immediately he was wide awake, full belly and exhaustion completely forgotten as he realized that all of Hogwarts was now open to him. No more furtive sneaking, knowing at any moment a Prefect or Filch could come around the corner. No more need for Allie to have the ghosts scout for them. No more need to plan out every detail and to set out decoys and deceptions.

The cloak would allow him to do everything and anything, whenever he wanted to as soon as he wanted to, and nobody would be the wiser.

He left the sett through the burrows instead of his usual preference of the Campfire painting, and walked through the halls until he reached the massive carved wooden doors of the library. He pushed one open.

Without the usual lamps and candles that normally lit the library it was very dark inside. Harry took up a lantern from a stand and a whispered rush of power caused the wick to burst into flame. Four months of magic lessons, and he still thought that the little fire-starting trick Allie had shown him was the neatest piece of magic he had learned.

Even with the lantern to light his way it was an eerie experience. Shelves of books loomed high above Harry as they emerged from shadows, and disappeared back into shadows behind him as he passed. The rows between each set of shelves were the dark mouths of caves, waiting to swallow him. The desk where Ms. Pince reigned supreme disappeared into the shadows above it until it became a faceless insurmountable crag.

He stepped over the velvet rope that closed off the Restricted Section. As Allie had said it wasn't magically alarmed. For a moment he stared up at the shelves of books of dark magic. Then, slowly realizing where he was and the opportunity it presented, he turned to the books.

Unlike the books in the main library these were obviously aged and some were in quite poor condition. Bindings had cracked with age and lack of preventive care. Gold lettering had faded into incomprehensibility. Many had no titles at all or had strange glyphs on them. Several had dark brownish stains of what looked suspiciously like blood.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and magic prickled his fingers as he brushed them against the spine of one book. The air had an odd tang to it, like the deionizer that Aunt Petunia had once brought home to improve air quality but had gotten rid of just as quickly. And, though Harry was almost certain it was his mind playing tricks on him, he thought he could hear the books whispering as though they were aware of some person's illicit presence in their midst.

Unable to find a good place to start, Harry set down the lantern and selected one of the few books that looked well cared for, a black leather tome with silver tooling on the spine and cover. He pulled it off the shelf carefully and tried to balance it on his knee, but it was heavier than he expected and it fell open.

A single piercing, bloodcurdling shriek rent the air—the book was screaming! It went on and on, a high, unbroken, solitary note. Harry slammed the book closed but it went on screaming and he shoved it back onto the shelf and headed for the entrance, nearly tripping over the rope that guarded the Restricted Section.

The rope sprung alive and tried to lasso him, but Harry had already stumbled past it and slammed into a heavy bookshelf. He paused long enough to take two quick breaths as he steadied himself and hurried up the library towards the door. A sound at the entrance made him pause, and he quickly ducked into a row and blew out his lantern.

A moment latter the door creaked and a light approached from the entrance of the library. Harry shrunk back further in the darkness of the row. Filch hurried past carrying a great guard-lantern and Harry silently counted out ten long seconds before slipping out of the shadow he had hide in and hurried back towards the entrance, pausing only long enough to return his lantern which clinked loudly as he set it down.

Filch cried out again and Harry ran.

He was in such a hurry to get away that he didn't pay much attention to where he was going until he found himself next to a suit of armor. This didn't help him much as there was at least a company's worth of suits of armor, perhaps more, that garrisoned the halls of Hogwarts and were fond of moving around when nobody was watching. He started to look around to get his bearings when he heard voices.

Wherever he was, Filch must have known a secret passage or some other shortcut and had gotten there first.

"You asked me to come to you directly, Professor," Filch was saying, "if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library—the Restricted Section."

To Harry's horror the soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and it was Snape who replied.

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't have gotten far, we'll catch them."

Harry could see Filch's lantern coming down the hall and looked desperately around. Snape and Filch couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much closer they could very well walk right into him. The cloak made him invisible to sight, it didn't make him intangible to touch.

There was a soft bluish light coming from a door a little down the hall and Harry crept towards it, careful not to let his trainers squeak on the stone floor. He had only one chance, to slip inside the barely open door and hope that Filch and Snape didn't see or hear anything that would bring them to investigate further.

He cautiously crossed the hall, conscious of the cloak around him. It was big, intended for a full-grown wizard, but if a hand or a foot was even momentarily uncovered he'd be caught and the cloak likely seized. Knowing Snape the Potions Master would likely keep it for himself and he'd never see it again.

Harry grabbed onto the door to hold it in place as he squeezed through and held his breath as they approached. If he was going to be caught it would be now…but Filch and Snape saw nothing and continued past the door where Harry hid. He released a breath that he hadn't been aware of holding and looked around the room.

It was clearly one of Hogwarts' many unused classrooms. Tables and chairs and desks were neatly gathered together along one wall. The windows stood wide on the wall to his right through which moonlight was gently gleaming. Harry peeked through the windows to find himself in a room in some west-facing hall because the lake and the forest were spread out before him across the grounds. Not two months before he would have been dizzy at the idea of going from an east/west running corridor to a west-facing room, but by now he'd had enough experience with Hogwarts' rearranging itself that even though he wasn't particularly comfortable with it, at least he didn't feel sick.

One thing set this room apart from the other unused classrooms that Harry had seen so far. Resting across the far wall from the door was a mirror. Not just any mirror. A big mirror. Something that would not have been out of place in a palace or an old mansion. It was as tall as Hagrid and perhaps taller still, and maybe half as wide as it was tall. Its frame was ornate, intricately carved gold with glittering gems that sparkled in the moonlight. The glass was brightly polished and caught the moonlight like a deep, still pool of water. On fancy scrollwork above the glass was written: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Snape and Filch, Harry moved nearer to the mirror that was clearly out of place in the deserted classroom, but again saw no reflection.

The mirror flashed with pearlescent moon-fire, and Harry clapped his hands to his mouth lest he release an attention-getting scream. He whirled around. His heart was going at about a thousand beats a minute, far harder than when the book had suddenly started screaming in the library or when confronted by the monstrous three-headed dog in the Forbidden Corridor—for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast as he tried to get his wildly beating heart back under control, Harry turned back to the mirror.

This time there was no watery-silver non-reflection or flash of reflected moonlight. Instead he stood in the mirror, scared-looking and very white, his skin taking on an odd glowing quality from the moonlight streaming through the windows. Standing behind him in the mirror were at least ten other people.

He looked over his shoulder—but no, there was still no one there. Were they invisible? Harry couldn't think of why a dozen people would want to stand behind him invisibly, but he flipped his cloak back on and looked again. He and all the other people were still there, so it certainly looked possible.

The cloak came off again and he stared at the people for a long while. A tall, thin man with wild black hair was standing behind his left shoulder. The man wore wire-framed glasses, and his right arm was around the shoulders of a very pretty woman with very dark red hair and glowing green eyes.

Harry groped around behind him, not taking his eyes off the two figures who stood nearest him in the mirror's reflection, but found nothing. "What are you?" he whispered. "Ghosts?"

Unlikely. He'd always assumed the ghosts could be invisible but he didn't know if it was true or not, but he didn't feel the familiar plunge-into-cold-water sensation that had always accompanied his few previous contacts with a ghost.

He stared at them again and started. The woman's eyes were _exactly_ like his, and the man's hair…

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked back at him, smiling. Slowly, Harry turned from them and looked at the other people in the mirror. There were other pairs of glowing green eyes like his, other noses, other pairs of spectacle-framed eyes (though none of these were glowing green), other mops of wild black hair… His parents smiled at Harry and waved as Harry realized that for the first time in his life he was looking at his family.

He stared at them hungrily, his hands pressing against the mirror-glass as though trying to press open a secret passage or perhaps hoping that like a character in a storybook he could fall right through the mirror and somehow make it to where his family stood. Something seized up his heart, a kind of ache that was half terrible joy and half equally terrible sorrow.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections never once started to fade and he looked and looked and looked until the sound of the Clock Tower bonging in the distance brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

\|/\|/\|/

Albus Dumbledore sat on his heels, not at all an easy thing to do in formal robes and especially not in thigh-deep snow, and stared unseeingly at the dead unicorn before him. Even with magic to help it was all too easy to get caught up in the damn things and fall, at best that would be embarrassing, but the Forbidden Forest at night with something killing unicorns was not at best. If he got tripped up in his robes here it could be a potentially a fatal mistake. Formal parties were the last thing he wanted to participate in at the moment, not with the…object in the castle. Whoever it was that was trying to get the Sto—_object_—had come a step nearer not a month before and he didn't know if it was the magical null-zone he had created, or the interruption of the Patil girl, or both, that had given the intruder pause.

Minerva was right, he decided grimly. It would have been better if that thing had never been brought to Hogwarts. Unfortunately it was too late to find another place for it. The time required to properly protect it simply wasn't available until the summer recess unless he either took a recess himself in which case everyone who knew about that damn thing would know exactly what he was doing. Which might not be a bad thing, but whoever it was had shown that he or she or they had access to the halls of Hogwarts. If they decided that they couldn't get the object by stealing it, it would be all too easy for them to take hostage and _demand_ he turn it over.

Could he entrust it to anyone else? No, he thought after a moment. Nicholas had given it to him precisely because he _knew_ that Dumbledore wouldn't be tempted by it. He didn't need the wealth, and eternal life had no appeal, not since—he shied away from these thoughts as well—and Nicholas and he had spent long days exploring the puzzles the object presented.

No, he decided regretfully, the…thing would have to stay until the summer. At least the mirror had finally arrived. It would take a few days to move it in with each Professor guiding him and the mirror past their challenge. Some of the traps might not have been a problem for him, but Minerva played a mean game of chess and fine broommanship was something he could appreciate but had little talent himself in.

He took a deep breath of the cold air that robbed the fallen unicorn of the smell of death, and tried once again to determine who it was. Not Severus, not any of the Professors. Most of them didn't even know what it was he had hidden. Albus made himself stop and go through them one at a time. Severus, no, he knew that Tom still existed. As long as that was the case Severus would follow his lead. Afterwards, perhaps, but not until He was dead. Minerva, Filius, and Pomona wouldn't. Too honorable, had no need of it, respected the cycle of life too much in the case of the Head of Hufflepuff, and if they did they certainly wouldn't go sneaking for it. Pomona couldn't bluff to save her life, Filius was too quick with his wand to need subterfuge, and Minerva was too stubbornly-honorable.

Cuthbert was a ghost and had no need for it. Argus didn't have enough magic to use it, and in any case he didn't know what it was and neither did Aurora, Bathsheba, Charity, Sybill, Septima, Irma, Rolanda, Silvanus or Poppy. Which left Hagrid and Quirenus. He'd known Hagrid for even long than he'd known Minerva. The man had even less interest in the kind of thing it offered than Albus himself did. And Quirenus? Three years ago, before the man had gone on sabbatical, back when he had been an extremely talented young academic he could have believed it. But the poor man had come back a quivering wreck that even a year as the Muggle Studies professor hadn't helped.

No, it had to be either a student, or someone on the outside.

Nymphadora, perhaps? She was talented enough to be asked to join the Aurors rather than petitioning for a chance at the academy, she had the broom-skills, the talent to get past the troll, and had a good enough mind to reason her way through Severus' poison. But she wasn't listed all that highly in the standings of chess players, and, besides, she wore her heart on her sleeve. That heart had remarkably open-minded and non-judgmental, living forever and wealth for the sake of wealth had little appeal to it.

Albrict Dansworth, perhaps?

As he had with his Professors Albus went through the various seventh years, and then the sixth years as well.

He really wanted to pin the intrusion on the Thorne girl. It would tie up everything quite neatly. She had certainly caused the wards to flare, disrupting the magic on the window as Hogwarts tried to contain her malignant powers, which had resulted in the Slytherin Common Room, much of the dungeons, and no small portion of Hogwarts' halls and corridors becoming flooded. Either it had been exquisitely timed, or the person had taken advantage of the situation.

No, he decided reluctantly. It had almost certainly been the perpetrator seizing a moment. To say otherwise would mean that one Draco Malfoy had to have been in on it, and his insult had cut too deep and his ignorance was too profound to be anything other than an accident on his part. Besides, Rolanda had confirmed that she'd dismissed the girl from her classes and Poppy had confirmed one of the more spectacular cases of broom-sickness she had heard of.

And if she was involved then what better time to sneak in and take the object than when the school was mostly empty with students having gone home for the holidays, and many of the staff gone as well? But Minerva, who, like Severus, had stayed, had reported that not only had the girl not recognized her—not unusual considering that animagus' weren't normally covered until third year, although perhaps unusual lapse considering how…cautious the girl was of those around her. Minerva's markings were on record complete with pictures, but apparently she had never checked them because she had been totally taken in. Minerva said that Thorne had spent most of the time feeding her blood-pops and brooding in the Chapel. It had been something of a surprise for both. He knew that the Fat Friar had always said that the Chapel was there for those who needed it, but in his quest to visit every room in the castle Albus himself had never encountered it.

Which meant that someone was either sneaking into the school—and how had they managed to find out about the flood if that was the case?—or he had dismissed someone he shouldn't have, or it was one of the students and/or staff who had left for the holiday.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

Albus closed his eyes briefly lest he betray that he was thinking about something other than the slain unicorn. "How many does this make, Hagrid?" he asked softly.

"Four, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said grimly. "Whatever's doin' it, is doin' one killin' a month."

"No regular pattern," Albus said. "Two weeks after the start of term, but October's was late in the month, almost six weeks between them. They aren't tied to cycles of the moon. They aren't tied to dates of power—they missed the equinox by more than a week and the solstice by a matter of days, the same for Halloween. No sign of any tracks?"

"No, Professor," Hagrid said. "And they didn' take the horn or the tail hairs or any of the meat either."

"Just blood," Albus said as he stood and brushed snow from his robes. As much as he didn't like formal parties, he liked being called back to Hogwarts because of slain unicorns even less. "Hagrid, have you heard anything?"

"What do yeah mean, Professor Dumbledore?"

Albus looked at him. "A fair number of the students confide in you. I'm not looking for secrets, Hagrid. But if any of them know anything about what's going on…"

"Like I told yeah, Professor," Hagrid said. "Harry an' some of his friends know that yer hidin' somethin' here. I don' think any of them knows what it is, but they're tryin; ter find out. I think they probably know someone's after it." He hesitated, "he was askin' me about Professor Snape."

"He doesn't think _Severus_—" Albus paused at the look Hagrid gave him and grimaced. "I suppose from Harry's perspective Severus would look like the logical suspect."

"He thinks Professor Snape hates 'im," Hagrid said.

Albus grimaced again. "What did you tell him?"

"That it was rubbish," Hagrid said, his accent fading slightly.

Albus watched him carefully. Hagrid only ever lost his accent when he was being extra-serious. The Groundskeeper had his own ways of finding out things, and after Albus, probably knew more about what was going on at Hogwarts than anyone else. Also, they were ways that had very little in common with Albus' own sources of information, which meant that they often provided a useful perspective.

"I don't like lying, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said.

"I can appreciate—"

"Not to a friend, and not to Lily and James' son."

Albus paused. Hagrid was invariably polite and respectful. It was maybe the third time in sixty years that he could recall Hagrid ever interrupting him.

"Hagrid, what's in the past is in the past. Best for him, best for all of them, that it stays there."

"Well then maybe you should remind Severus of that," Hagrid said.

"Severus has a right to his feelings," Albus said.

"Not sayin' he don'," Hagrid said, his accent coming back. "But he don' have a right ter be treatin' Harry like that either. Not if he's not wanting Harry ter know why."

Albus closed his eyes and sighed. Hagrid, unfortunately, had a point. He started to reply, but the familiar tingle of Hogwarts' wards at the back of his mind made him pause. After all these years he didn't even have to think about how to tap into the wards. He knew instantly that someone had tripped a minor ward he had placed to keep track of anyone coming close to the mirror. A slight extension of his will and he saw a dark glass, like the mirrored surface of pond in the midst of a dark forest, and floating in it was the face of Harry Potter.

"I shall discuss it with him, Hagrid," he said, "thank you. And I think I shall soon also talk with young Mister Potter as well."

\|/\|/\|/

When Harry stumbled into the Great Hall later that morning Ron waved him over to the Gryffindor table.

"So?" Ron asked eagerly as he sat down. "Did you use it? What did you do? You could have woken me up and taken me with you."

Harry shrugged. "I went down to the library, in the Restricted Section."

"You were in the Restricted Section?" Ron asked with wide eyes. "Well? Did you find him?"

Harry shook his head and explained about the screaming book, Filch and Snape.

"You were lucky to get away," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry said distantly as he moved his eggs around on his plate. "That unused classroom I hid in. There was a mirror in there. A huge one with a really fancy frame and…and I could see my family in it."

"But your family is—" Ron broke off and shrugged an apology.

"Dead," Harry finished. "Yeah, I know."

"I still would have liked to have come with you."

"You still can," Harry said as he came to a decision. "I'm going back. Tonight."

"I'd like to see your mum and dad."

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," Ron replied. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating?"

Harry moved his eggs around some more. How could he possibly feel like eating? What he had felt like when he'd gotten his broom and had to wait all day before he could fly it had nothing on what he felt now, and it was made worse by noting having any classes to offer pretence of a distraction. Until Ron had mentioned Flamel he had almost forgotten the reason he had been in the Restricted Section. It just didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared about what a giant three-headed dog?

"Ah 'oo ahl' 'igh'?" Ron asked, his mouth full of food. He swallowed noisily. "You look odd."

\|/\|/\|/

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the room again. He had been more concerned with evading Filch and Snape the night before and hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going, and there was always the very real possibility that a corridor he had taken the night before could lead to the opposite side of the castle and a completely different floor. Nor had he really thought about what having Ron with him would mean, and Harry grew increasingly irritated at the slow pace that was necessary for keeping Ron covered by the cloak.

"I'm freezing," Ron said after they had been wandering around dark corridors for nearly an hour. "Let's forget it and go back."

"_No!_" Harry hissed. With more than a half-dozen night-time trips through the halls of Hogwarts behind him he knew full-well how cold the castle could get at night, and had dressed accordingly. Ron had nearly been ready for bed when Harry had shown up at the portrait of the Fat Lady who guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower. Too excited to get full dressed, Ron had only pulled on a pair of socks, and had spent the last half-hour complaining about his feet being cold. "I know it's here somewhere."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago!" Ron protested, but quietly, for the ghost of a tall witch came gliding past in the opposite direction.

Metal glinted in the pearly glow from the ghost, and Harry spotted the suit of armor that had been standing guard at the corridor the night before. He hurried down the hall with Ron struggling to keep up and keep under the cloak.

"Are you nuts?" Ron hissed as Harry closed the door. "Did you really have to run that last—"

"Shh," Harry said, hurriedly hushing Ron before Snape or Filch could hear them. He dropped the cloak and crossed the room to the mirror. His mother and father beamed and waved back at him.

"See?" he asked Ron.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them."

"I can only see you, Harry," Ron said. "It's just a normal mirror, see?" he reached past Harry and thumped the glass, only to pull back with a yelp.

"Ron!"

"I'm fine," Ron said, wringing his hand. "It's just…static or something."

"Look, you probably weren't looking at it properly," Harry said. "Stand where I was and have a look."

He stood aside for Ron, but with Ron in front of the mirror he couldn't see his family any more, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, however, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!"

"Can you see your family?" Harry asked.

"No, just me, I look older and I'm wearing my school robes," Ron said. "I'm Head Boy!"

"You are?" Harry asked.

"Yeah! I'm wearing the badge that Bill used to wear, and I'm holding the House Cup! Hey, I'm holding the Quidditch Cup! I'm Quidditch Captain too. None of my brothers were both," Ron said. "Hey, Harry, do you think this mirror shows us the future?"

"How can it?" Harry asked. "All my family are dead. Let me have another look."

"You had all of last night!" Ron objected, not tearing his eyes away from the splendid image before him.

"You're only holding the Quidditch Cup, what's so great about that? C'mon, Ron, I want to see my family."

"Don't push me—"

There was a noise out in the hall and both froze, quickly realizing just how loudly they had been shouting.

"Quick," Ron said, throwing the cloak over both of them.

Mrs. Norris pawed the door open and stuck her head into the room. Her bulbous eyes glowed in the moonlight as she slowly examined the room.

Did the cloak work on cats? Harry wondered. Apparently it did for after what seemed like an age she turned and left the room.

"This isn't safe—she might have gone for Filch. I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled Harry out of the room.

\|/\|/\|/

The next day was very cold. The snow froze and grew a thick crusty layer of ice that made building snowforts and rolling snowballs impossible. Even if it hadn't, Harry had no desire to go outside. Nor did he want to go up to the Gryffindor Tower and play chess with Ron, or sit in the Great Hall and play exploding Snap with the other students who had stayed behind, or search the library for Nicholas Flamel or any one of the countless other things that the other students who had stayed behind were doing.

"What about tea with Hagrid?" Ron asked, having already listed most of the other things that Harry had no desire to do.

"No…you go…" Harry muttered. It was funny how the hours could seem to go so fast when he was learning magic, but now seemed to stretch on for forever.

"I know what you're thinking," Ron said. "You're thinking about that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Ron said. "I've just got a bad feeling about it. Anyway, you've had too many close calls already. Snape, Filch, and Mrs. Norris are all patrolling the hallways. So what if they can't see you? That cloak doesn't stop them from hearing you, or Filch's cat from smelling you. What happens if you walk right into them, or knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione," Harry said, remembering there was a reason why Ron and Hermione hadn't been invited into the Lords of Chaos.

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

But Harry had only one thought in his head, and that thought was to get in front of that mirror once more and nobody, not even Ron, was going to stop him.

\|/\|/\|/

But it wasn't Ron who showed up in the Hufflepuff common room just before curfew, but Allie. She poked her head in and looked around just as Harry pulled the cloak about his shoulders, and froze and the sight of his disembodied head.

"Let me guess," Harry said, breaking the silence, "Ron sent you down to step me from going."

She gave Harry a look that made him feel rather foolish. "Why on earth would Weasley send _me_? I may be one step up from the other Slytherins, but as far as he's concerned I'm still several steps below that stuff you scrape off the bottom of your shoe after walking through a dog park."

Despite the urgent need to get back to the mirror, Harry smiled. No, Ron did not like Allie at all. He still wasn't sure where the animosity came from, or what her House had to do with it, but that didn't make it any less real. It was an aspect of friendship that he had never realized even existed before coming to Hogwarts. And the idea that you could be friends with two people who didn't like each other was taking some getting used to.

Fortunately for Ron, Harry thought, Allie regarded the other boy with indifference rather than the hatred and distrust that he professed. On the other hand, he wasn't certain if that same indifference, or the implication that Ron wasn't worth her time or notice, hadn't just made the Gryffindor hate her more. Ever since he and Allie had made up Ron had taken to avoiding her even more than before, and Christmas had been the first time since Allie accepted Draco's challenge that he had seen them both in the same room at once, including the Great Hall during meals.

Part of him wondered what was going to happen once classes started again, but it was a small and feeble part compared to his desire to get away from his friend and go to the Mirror again.

"Have you heard about what's happening for your duel yet?" he asked, searching for something to talk about long enough that he could slip away without being impolite.

"Draco's father is coming around in a few days to talk," she said, not sounding at all pleased by the idea. "Are you still interested in being my second?"

"I suppose," Harry said. "Why?"

"You'll need to be there," she said grimly. "Professor Flitwick will be there as well. He was a world-class duelist when he was younger. Admittedly, competition is different than a Field of Honor, but he's agreed to make sure all the proper forms are observed.

"So where are you going?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked. She gestured at him and he looked down, only then remembering that his body was cloaked. "Oh," he said evasively, "out."

"Oh," she said in reply.

Harry hesitated. After the experience with Ron last night the last thing he wanted to do was show another person the mirror, but he got the sense that getting Allie to leave would take longer than simply going to the thing.

"Come on," he said, "I have something to show you."

\|/\|/\|/

This time he found the room with the Mirror of Erised without any trouble at all. Harry pulled the cloak off of them and quickly shut the door as Allie looked around the room.

"It's just an unused classroom," Harry said. Hogwarts seemed to have a great store of these and he wondered if at some point the castle had had more students than it currently did. The dormitories seemed to argue against it, as it seemed that there was just enough space for all of the students.

Perhaps the practice rooms and small library had been additional dorms once upon a time, but it seemed unlikely. Even if the other Houses had similar rooms he couldn't see how they'd add so many students that the additional class-space would have been necessary.

"A bit out of the way," Allie said, examining a section of wall intently. "Probably that was the intention of whoever stored this mirror in here. I take it the mirror is what you wanted to show me?"

Harry nodded, not looking away from the mirror. "It shows you…stuff. Ron saw himself in the future and I can see my family."

"All I can see is you in it…hmm, I can't even see myself standing next to you…the room isn't reflected either. I wonder why."

"Magic?" Harry suggested, waving back at his mother. "I'll be right back," he whispered before stepping aside. "Go on, I want to know what you see."

Allie gave him a guarded look before stepping in front of the mirror. "I'm not sure—"

"Go on," Harry said. "It'll be fine."

"If you say so," Allie said dubiously.

For a moment her reflection stared back uncomprehendingly at Harry, then she slowly raised an arm and reached out to touch the glass. She made a soft sound, somewhere between a whimper and a cry of distress, and her face, reflected back to Harry was a mix of longing hope and crushing despair.

"Allie?" Harry asked.

She didn't reply, even when he tugged at her robe. Instead she stood staring sightlessly at the mirror.

Fear and worry washed away Harry's need to stare into the mirror like a bucket of water tossed into a fire. He got between Allie and mirror and pushed, forcing her back one step, then a second.

Whatever magic that had ensnared her broke on the third step and something dark and hungry and very unhappy looked at Harry through his friend's eyes before, with another soft cry, she turned away from him and collapsed.

"Allie?" Harry asked, kneeling down next to his friend. "Allie, what is it? What happened?"

But Allie shrugged him off, and when she spoke her voice was tired and wan. "So, Old Man, did you see what you wanted to see?"

\|/\|/\|/

Albus Dumbledore considered the surprised look Harry was giving him for a moment before turning to Harry's companion. "The Mirror of Erised only ever bestows its visions upon one person. All others looking into its glass see only the reflections of that person."

"Sure, the Mirror, and I don't doubt you have a way around that restriction," the Thorne girl said.

He did, of course, have exactly that, but to stare into the deepest desires of another person… No, he would discuss them if they were spoken aloud, but he wouldn't perform that sort of violation. That she thought he would do such a thing showed just how little she thought of him. Of course, he thought bitterly to himself, in her case she may well have been right, _if_ he had known Harry would bring her here. He had suspected the Mirror had a firm grip on Harry, too firm to bring another person after the way the previous night had been cut short.

It appeared, like with so many things in the past few months where Harry was concerned, that he was only half-right.

"I, er, we didn't see you, sir," Harry said as the silence stretched.

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Albus allowed with a soft smile. He slipped from the desk he was sitting on top of and slid down to the floor so he could sit next to his students, but Ms. Thorne slowly stood and walked unsteadily towards the windows that looked down on the grounds. Albus sighed and glanced at the Mirror long enough to see moonfire glow in its polished surface but glanced away before it could bring back images of times he'd left long ago.

"So, Harry, you like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know that it was called that, sir."

"But I expect that you've realized by now what it is that it does?"

"It—well—it shows me with my family—"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain."

"How'd you know that?" Harry blurted.

"I do not need invisibility cloaks to make myself pass unseen," Albus said gently.

"And it showed Allie…" Harry hesitated and looked over to where she was staring out at the moon-lit grounds.

"Don't," she said her voice still unsteady. "Please, Harry, just don't ask."

Albus waited a moment, and when Harry didn't say anything he explained. "Let me put it like this. The happiest man on earth would be able to look into the Mirror of Erised and use it as an ordinary mirror. He would see nothing in the mirror except himself exactly the way he is. Does that help?"

"All right," Harry said slowly as he thought it over. "It shows us what we want…whatever it is that we want."

"Yes and no, Harry," Albus said. "The Mirror of Erised shows us nothing less and nothing more than the deepest, the most desperate desires of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always found himself overshadowed by his brothers, finds himself standing alone, the best of them all."

"There are a great many magical mirrors and rings in the world, Harry," the Thorne girl spoke up again, "and none of them should be used lightly."

"Indeed," Albus agreed, but was that a voice of experience, or some bit of trivia that she had picked up? It sounded as though it was a quote but he couldn't place the source. There were indeed a great many mirrors that, like the Mirror of Erised, were Old Magic and many of them were, in one way or another, dangerous. Not at all like today's mass-enchanted mirrors that gave comments on the robes being worn and what hairstyles were currently in.

"Your friend is wise to urge caution, Harry," Albus allowed. "This mirror will grant us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"The Mirror shall be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask that you not go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it you will now be prepared. It does not do well to dwell on the dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put on that admirable cloak and go back to bed?"

Harry stood up and looked at Ms. Thorne.

"You go on, Harry, I'm sure the Headmaster won't mind walking me back to the Slytherin dorms after I've had a few more minutes to compose myself."

Harry nodded. "Sir—Professor Dumbledore, may I ask you a question?"

"Obviously you have just done so, but you may certainly ask me another," Albus allowed.

"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"

"I?" Albus asked to give himself the briefest of moments to order his thoughts. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

He savored Harry's stare at him. By now the Professors were well used to him and he just never had enough time to spend with his students. That would change, he told himself firmly. After Tom. It was a bright cheery thought that he was carefully cultivating against the dark years that he knew were ahead of them.

"One can never have enough socks," he continued. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I did not receive a single pair. People will insist on getting me books."

"I…see, sir, thank you," Harry said, slipping the cloak back on. A moment later the door opened.

"Are all your lies so pleasant-sounding?" Ms. Thorne asked as a very familiar cat walked in. She flicked her tail at Albus, then padded across the room to the girl who picked her up and scratched her behind her ears.

"What makes you think it wasn't the truth?" Albus asked mildly. She didn't fall for it, but he hadn't expected her to. "What is your interest in Harry?" he asked after a moment more of silence.

"What's yours?" she retorted.

Albus slowly stood, not taking his eyes off of her. He could have pushed out his aura, flooded the room with his personal power, but he strongly suspected it wouldn't have intimidated her at all. At worst it could lead to a contest between them. Dangerous for his students though he had no doubt of its final decision.

"What is your interest in Harry, Ms. Thorne?"

"_Blackthorn_," she spat, setting the cat aside. There was no pretense in the motion. She didn't go for her wand, but the intent was still there.

It was an interesting move on several levels. While it did clear her personal space leaving her free to move if needed, its primary purpose had been to move the cat somewhat out of the path of danger should it come to a fight.

"What is your interest in Harry, Ms. Thorne?" Albus said.

"Thrice a question asked?" she asked, her tone suddenly wry. "I'm no creature of Fae, Headmaster." She gave him a cool look before shrugging. "Fine, since you wanted to know. I like Harry. I think he's a good kid. Seeing an old archmage taking a mighty personal interest in him is just setting off all sorts of warning sirens in my head. And, honestly, I can't figure you out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you have something guarded in this castle. Something that probably got one of my few friends, and the daughter of a man I regard very highly, nearly beaten to death. You bring that…_thing_," she spat, gesturing at the Mirror of Erised, "into a school and leave it in an unused classroom, utterly unguarded."

"There were guards, I assure you," Albus said.

"Fine, something that clued you in that someone was here," she told him. "It should be locked away somewhere if you aren't going to destroy it."

"Is there anything else?" Albus asked, quirking one bushy eyebrow. It was often better in situations like this to say as little as possible and let the other person rant. It was amazing how much people would let slip when they were upset.

She didn't reply.

"You seem very aggrieved with me," he noted.

"You seem to have latched onto me as the heavy in this little drama of yours," she said after a moment. "I'm not, but there's nothing I can say that will convince you of that, is there, Headmaster? Even though you're having me followed—"

Albus had been around for far too long to respond to the accusation, no matter how truthful it was.

"—you still don't have anything to prove it or I wouldn't be here. And even if I told you there was nothing there to find you'd just tell me that absence of proof isn't proof of an absence. So here's the truth.

"I thought I'd give the whole 'friendship' thing a try. So far it seems really nice. Harry's certainly more companionable than the things I'm used to hanging around with and the others aren't so bad either. Even Weasley must have a good point, I'm not sure what it is but he must have at least one 'cause Harry sees something in him. But Harry and the others are in danger because you've tempted something into this school, and you've so firmly latched onto me that you can't begin to allow yourself to really believe that it could be anyone else."

"You seem to know my thoughts fairly well."

She laughed, a hollow, bitter-sounding thing that nobody so young, not even her, should have made. "Do you want to know what I saw in that little looking-glass of yours, Headmaster?" she asked. "I saw my worst nightmare."

"I see," Albus whispered, fighting the urge to wipe suddenly sweaty palms on his robes.

"I doubt it," she said flatly. She sighed heavily, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and the antagonistic budding dark-witch melted away into a tired-looking young teenager. "There, my interest. Happy?" she asked. "I'll just go show myself off to bed."

She turned and left the room.

"That could certainly have gone better," Albus muttered to himself.

"Oh, and Headmaster?"

"Yes, Ms. Thorne?"

"I suggest that next time you're spelling enspelled words to use a self-checking spelling spell."

"Excuse me?" Albus asked.

She gestured past him towards the Mirror of Erised. "It's missing an apostrophe. It should be '_s'tra_', es-apostrophe-tē-är-ā. That mirror should read _Erised s'tra_, not _Erised_ _stra_. Singular possessive tense, not plural."

"Ah yes, so it should," Albus allowed. He watched as she left and gently closed the door behind her.

"The girl has a point, Albus," Minerva said. "Leaving the Mirror here, unguarded, was most careless."

"Was it?" Albus asked. "I admit it was not my intention to leave it here for so long, but I believe this was a good learning opportunity."

"For whom, Albus?" Minerva asked. "For Mr. Potter, or for yourself?"

"Both, of course," Albus replied.

"And Ms. Blackthorn?"

"She fears what she desires most, it is an interesting dichotomy don't you think?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Minerva said, "if you knew what it was she feared. For all you know she could desire to eat extra-hot curry but fears the heartburn that would follow."

"Minerva, be serious."

"Oh I am, Albus. I agree that precautions are still warranted, but following her through the portraits? Tracking spells? Me? Unless I forgo the unit on animagi she will certainly recognize me two years from now."

"If she's still here."

"Do you honestly believe that she won't be?" Minerva asked him archly. "I thought not. Let the poor girl alone, Albus. She didn't do this on her own and putting her under stress is only more likely to trigger just the sort of accident that you fear most."

"But—"

"I recall having this conversation once before, Albus," she said, favoring him with a look that always reminded him of Madame Haupper-Mannock and her ability, of all his professors, to make him feel rather dim. "Only, if I recall correctly, our sides were reversed."

"And altogether different situation."

"Not really, Albus."

"Greyback is a monster, Minerva, but there have been werewolves before who managed to live with their condition without becoming like him. You know that those like her fall. Sooner or later, they all fall."

"Yes, but some of them pick themselves up afterward," Minerva told him.

Albus narrowed his eyes. Usually Minerva was quite to the point, but this time she had been edging towards something, some point. "I expected Severus to be making this argument," he noted.

"Severus has already promised her a service that he is…singularly capable of providing," Minerva told him. "It is not something that she could have gone to one of us for, but it does prevent him from being more…helpful on her behalf."

"A service?" Albus repeated. "Such as what?"

"Such as something you would object to if told in advance, Albus." She frowned at him, "or perhaps you wouldn't, which worries me a great deal."

"But you have another thought," Albus noted.

"Don't play me for a fool, Albus. I too can read the signs, I assure you. A decade of peace was all we were ever promised, and on that very anniversary a troll was set loose in our halls. Gringotts has been broken into, unicorns are being slain. If You-Know-Who isn't coming back yet we won't have to wait for very much longer."

"And you think to have _her_ as an ally?"

"You were the one that said last time that the wizarding world _must_ be open to all, Albus. Not to just Witch and Wizard, no matter their origin, but to goblin and centaur and mer-person… If having her at Hogwarts makes Him hesitate, even just a little, it will be an advantage I will grasp with both hands. You know even better than I what happened the _last_ time someone attacked the Thornes."

"That was a long time ago and on their lands."

"Best that we find a way to encourage Him to do something as foolish, then," Minerva told him coolly before stalking out of the room and leaving him with his thoughts.


	17. Chapter 17: The Emerald Tablet

**Chapter 16: The Emerald Tablet**

" 'Tis true without error, aye 'tis most certain and true  
That which is below it to that which is above  
And that which is above is to that which is below  
And through this works the Miracle of the One Thing."  
-Excerpt from the Emerald Tablet-

\|/\|/\|/

True to his word, Harry didn't try looking for the Mirror of Erised again. In fact, aside from one attempt to ask Allie what she had seen in it that had gone nowhere, he avoided thinking about it at all. The invisibility cloak lay neatly folded in the bottom of his trunk and he fully intended to leave it there until the day that the students who had gone home returned and he could take it out to show his friends.

The day before the turning of the new year Professor Flitwick sent the Fat Friar to bring Harry to an unused office. Allie, who had been in the library with him when the ghost floated up through the table, came along as far as the door.

"You aren't coming in?" Harry asked.

"I'm one of the Principals to the duel, it wouldn't be proper," Allie said. "The seconds arrange the particulars. Setting this meeting up when Blaise couldn't be here is a deliberate insult on their part. Rightly speaking, Draco shouldn't be present either, but I doubt he's thick enough to let Greg decide things for him. Just remember, Harry, you aren't obligated to agree to anything they propose. Especially since Blaise isn't present. Just remember, it doesn't hurt to listen."

Malfoy was already in the room when he walked in, as was a man Harry didn't know but whose long platinum-blond hair could only make him another Malfoy. Presumably he was Malfoy's oft-mentioned father.

"At last," the senior Malfoy said. "Perhaps now we can finally get to business."

Harry had started to reach for one of the empty chairs, but now he paused. Neither of these two was supposed to be here, and Flitwick had agreed to make sure all the rules were followed. He might not be sure of what the rules all were, but _Flitwick_ almost certainly did…

"Excuse me," he said, "who are you?"

"I am Lucius Malfoy," the man said bitingly. "Draco's father."

"Oh, yes, he may have mentioned you," Harry said, trying his best to sound indifferent. He turned to Flitwick. "I really most protest. This man is not a Principal, nor is he a Second of one the Principals involved. Further, this meeting as deliberately called when it was full well known that one of my Principal's Seconds would be unable to attend."

"I can name my father as my Second," Malfoy cut in. "I'm allowed three."

"Mr. Malfoy, you must wait your turn," Flitwick said sternly.

"My further questions can wait," Harry offered.

Flitwick nodded once and turned to Malfoy. "You had a chance to name your Seconds when you and Ms. Blackthorn asked me to serve as Master. I assure you, I will do so fully and impartially, and I _will_ see to it that all the proper forms are observed, am I understood?"

"Perfectly, sir," Harry said, playing up the role a little.

"Yes," Draco—Harry forced himself to call the boy 'Draco' lest he get confused—grated.

"Excellent," Flitwick said. "You were made aware of Ms. Blackthorn's Seconds, as well as that one would not be present during the holiday, Mr. Malfoy. That you deliberately requested this meeting knowing that one of her Seconds would be unable to attend reflects poorly upon you, sir.

"Furthermore, while you are correct in that you are allowed three, properly you are allowed _up to_ three. At the time you requested my services you named only Mr. Gregory Goyle whom, I note, is not present. Any formal change must be made with all named parties present. This is not the case."

"I believe a waver can be granted if both Principals agree," the senior Malfoy said.

"Indeed that is the case," Flitwick said. "Mr. Potter, will you speak for Ms. Blackthorn in this?"

Harry considered saying 'no'. He certainly didn't want to agree without talking to Allie, and unlike himself he was sure that Mr. Malfoy knew all of the rules, and how to get around them. "I will inform her of the request," Harry said finally, "but Ms. Blackthorn has been careful to observe the proper forms. If Mr. Malfoy wants his father to act for him then she is likely going to insist that he go about doing so properly."

The elder Malfoy's face didn't move, but Harry could feel the fury pour off of him, and Draco's flushed leaving his face an unattractive waxy-looking sort of pale.

"However," Harry said after a moment, "If Mr. Malfoy wishes for me to pass along a message to my Principal, I have no objection."

"Very well, Mister Malfoy," Flitwick said once Harry had claimed his seat in one of the large wing-back chairs. The other left noticeably empty.

"It has been made known to me that what my son said prior to Ms. Blackthorn's attempt to slay him by flooding the Slytherin Common Room could have been interpreted as a grievous insult, Mr. Potter," Malfoy said silkily. "Therefore it occurred to me that it would be prudent to clear that matter so that your Principal might forgive his ill-advised offered challenge."

"Of course," Harry said.

"In that case I propose an alliance between our Houses."

"An alliance?" Harry asked, suddenly confused.

"A kind that will obviously show that no insult was intended and that Ms. Blackthorn has no interest in my son's death."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that so he held his tongue.

"Dynastic."

Harry managed not to say anything, but he was sure from the way Malfoy's eyes glittered at him that he had given something away.

"Ms. Blackthorn is an exceptional witch, and as the party perceived by many to be insulted, Draco would be honor-bound to do all in his power to set it right."

"You are—" Harry blurted, and quickly remembered where he was, "—er, suggesting that Draco marry Allie?"

"Precisely, Mr. Potter," Malfoy said, and he didn't have to sneer for Harry to hear it.

What kind of twisted double-thinking was that? An insult that was supposedly 'proved' to not exist by the insulter marrying the insulted? Did the Purebloods really solve things by marrying each other as soon as they entered Hogwarts?

"I'll pass the offer along," Harry said.

"Inform her that it would be in her best interest," Malfoy said.

"And if she refuses?" Harry asked.

"You are impertinent."

"I am Allie's Second," Harry said stiffly. "You are not Draco's, _sir_."

"Very well, inform her, Mr. Potter. But know this; should she refuse my very generous offer my son will have the best Champion I can find for him."

"Allie's, excuse me, Ms. Blackthorn's honor is her own, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied. "She has made it clear that she has no need for anyone else to settle her affairs for her."

Harry quickly stood, but didn't try to mimic the short, ironic bow the elder Malfoy offered before he stormed from the room followed by Draco.

"That could have gone better," Harry said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said. "You handled that quite well. I must say that I'm impressed."

The door opened and both turned to see Allie slip inside.

"It went well, I take it?" she asked.

"You watched?" Flitwick said, sounding rather upset.

"Only the hall, it would have been hard to miss two generations of Malfoy's stomping through the halls," Allie said. "What happened?"

Harry explained about Malfoy trying to get his father to be his second and how he'd refused, then passed along the elder Malfoy's marriage proposal. "You wouldn't really agree, would you?" he asked.

"No, but I'm going to let him withdraw the offer rather than outright objecting it," Allie said.

"May I ask how you intend to do that, Ms. Blackthorn?" Flitwick asked. "Lucius Malfoy is hardly his son."

"Oh that's easy," Allie said, waving a hand as though to brush the issue away. "I'll simply insist his son speak his vows first."

Harry turned to Allie. "Why does it matter what order wedding oaths are spoken in?"

Flitwick spoke, startling Harry. "When a witch weds, Mr. Potter, she leaves her family and joins the groom's. It is an ancient variation of a liegeman swearing fealty to his lord."

"Exactly," Allie said. "The Thorne family is much older than the Malfoys, so Lucius could hardly object to using our traditions without losing support among the traditional families, but at the same time the Thorne's are matrilineal so—"

"So Malfoy would be joining your family so he'd have to go first," Harry said.

She nodded. "The Thornes would absorb the Malfoys instead of the other way around. Lucius is the Head of the Malfoys, not a mere cadet branch. If he had agreed I'd turn his family into a footnote in history so fast he'd forget his own name. He never would go for it."

"You _expected_ him to try getting you two married?"

"This is hardly the kind of conversation you should be having in front of me, Ms. Blackthorn," Flitwick noted.

She looked at him. "That's okay, Harry and I need to speak with _Professor_ Flitwick for a while."

"We do?" Harry asked.

"Meaning no disrespect, Professor," Allie said lightly, "but Professor Snape is Malfoy's Godfather. Professor McGonagall is too…righteous, and Professor Sprout is…unsuitable. I am requesting Council and Guidance, and prepared to formally invoke it if you insist. I am, of course, fully aware of the…awkward position this would place you in."

"Not nearly so awkward," Flitwick said lightly. "It is, after all, any Professor's job to assist his students, whether with their class subject or to grow in life."

"Excellent." Allie sank into one of the chairs and after looking once at Flitwick Harry did the same.

"As I told Justin at the beginning of the year, for some pureblood families it just means that they've had magical parents going back a few generations or more," Allie said pensively. "Others are really radical about it."

"They define themselves by it, you said," Harry said.

"To them it represents power."

"It is the mistaken belief that greater magical power can be bred into the next generation by mating within a sharply defined blood-pool," Flitwick said. "To a certain extent this is true, but much of the most radical fringe has reached the point where those blood-lines are starting to fail and most of the lesser families have reached a point of diminishing returns."

"But why?" Harry asked. "What are they trying to reach? I mean, not everyone can be a wizard like the Headmaster, but we're pretty powerful compared to where we were a thousand years ago, right? I mean, we have all sorts of spells that they didn't back then."

"And that, Mr. Potter, is the Great Debate," Flitwick said. "We have more spells, yes, but for a number of reasons it has become much easier to create a new spell than it was in the past. The situation is similar to muggle literature. There are a great many more new books being printed each year than there were three hundred years ago or more. So while we can _do_ more, we aren't necessarily any more powerful than a wizard born five centuries ago."

"And then there are the Wyrdings," Allie said.

"Wyrdings?"

"You'll find out about them if you take N.E.W.T.-level history," Flitwick said. "The short version is that in order to keep ourselves hidden from the muggles it became necessary to lock away the Wildest and most powerful of magic. Some Talents became vanishingly rare, others disappeared entirely. Species of magical animals were wiped out entirely, other survived, but were mere shadows of their former glory. Artifacts of Ancient Magicks were rendered powerless. Words of Power lost their potency.

"Families were striped of Talents that had followed their blood-lines for centuries or more. Wizard and witch alike found their powers wane and feeble, or lost entirely. It is to these old magics that the Pureblood beliefs aspire."

"There are still a few pockets of Wild magic," Allie said. "Not everyone lost everything. The Witch of Donan Wood…"

"Yes, and the Witch of the Westmoreland, although that one is a special case," Flitwick said. "And the Thornes, of course, which brought this about."

"Oh we aren't nearly so powerful as the rumors suggest," Allie demurred. "But you're right, and Lucius would never have passed up a chance to absorb the Thornes. I did expect something more subtle, though. That was pretty blatant."

"Aren't you afraid of what he said, about getting a champion?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Allie said.

"A Champion is bound by oaths, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said. "He literally holds his Principal's honor and magic during the duel.

"If Draco was to go along and the champion killed me, well, legally everything would be all right," Allie said. "The problem is that this isn't about honor anymore. This is about _perception_, and as far as everyone else is concerned Draco bringing in a champion would be like Professor Snape fighting you in a duel."

"Professors aren't allowed to challenge students," Flitwick said. "But," he continued at Allie's look, "the comparison is well enough."

"Unfair, one-sided, and in very poor taste," Allie went on. "Worse, everyone would _know_ Draco's dad hired the champion, so in addition to the rest people would never let him forget that he needed his father to settle his fights for him. That sort of thing, when it comes to duels, is probably the second-worst thing that could happen to him after being thought of as hiring a paid duelist."

Harry frowned. "Paid duelist? How is that any different?"

"A champion acts for a Principal who is incapable of acting for himself, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said seriously, "which is why Mr. Malfoy will find it difficult to justify having one. A paid duelest is hired to foment a duel, either challenging a person outright or provoking that person to offer the challenge, either insult another person so that person calls for a duel, and then cripple or kill that person."

"Basically it's murder for hire using a duel as cover."

"Will Malfoy figure that out?" Harry paused long enough for Allie to nod at him to go on. "What it is people will think of him, I mean."

"Don't ever think Malfoy is stupid. Arrogant, conceited, whiny, something of a wimp, all true; but not stupid. He'll figure out what I just described and he'll flatly disallow a champion to stand in for him."

"That's why you told me it doesn't hurt to listen," Harry said as he put the pieces together. "You thought that he would get around to threatening to hire a champion and you wanted to get Malfoy thinking about how other people would see him if he did."

"That's very good, Harry," Allie said, "and you're right. It is exactly what I hoped to get out of the meeting once it happened and I noticed that Greg wasn't there."

"Do you really intend to kill him?" Harry asked.

"And now we're getting to the part I wanted to talk to Professor Flitwick about," Allie said.

"You could simply apologize," Flitwick said.

"I could apologize for striking him, but that won't satisfy Malfoy or his father and I refuse to apologize for something I didn't do," Allie said flatly. "The Mistress of Thornes suggested the same course of action so that she could declare a blood-feud between our Houses. Until the matter between me and Draco Malfoy has been concluded however, she can't do that. She's wanted an excuse to destroy the Malfoys for years and I will be _damned_ before I give her one!"

She let out an angry breath. "Unfortunately, Malfoy called me out in a forum in which I could not decently refuse."

Flitwick started to say something, but then he paused. After a moment he bluntly asked, "Have your Seconds asked Mr. Malfoy for an apology?"

"Blaise has been seeing to that," Allie said.

"Wait a moment," Harry said. "You are trying to get out of the duel?"

Allie and Flitwick both winced.

"That isn't the politest way of—"

"Yes," Allie said bluntly. After a moment she shrugged, "Professor Flitwick is right, of course. It's hardly appropriate behavior, but at least it's honest. There are a whole slew of reasons why killing Malfoy would be a bad idea; pureblood politics, the fact that we're both in school, personal reasons…"

"Okay," Harry said. "So what does Zabini have to say? Will Malfoy go for it?"

Allie shook her head. "If Draco's father had wanted him out of the duel he could have said that Draco didn't have the right to issue the challenge. Normally heirs do, but since he's underage his father, as Head of House, could have revoked it after the fact. Personally I think Malfoy senior received a letter from my grandmother as well, and he'd like to see her get involved personally even less than I would."

"Do you think Mr. Malfoy would apologize if given the chance?" Flitwick asked.

"Probably," Allie said.

"If he's getting pressure from his father…" Harry said, "And no offense, Allie, but we've all seen you in transfiguration and charms, or heard about it after the fact. If no one was standing ready to undo one of your mistakes they could be pretty dangerous."

"None taken," Allie said. "It's true enough. So I suppose the question is where do I go from here?"

Harry had no idea. Looking at the diminutive charms professor it didn't look like Flitwick did either.

\|/\|/\|/

Nor did Blaise Zabini when he returned with the rest of the students who had gone home for the hols.

No sooner had the door close on the small room that Professor Flitwick said that they could use than the Slytherin boy threw himself into an overstuffed chair and said; "Merlin, Blackthorn, you really like to make your life complicated, don't you? I mean, you do know it's against all sorts of protocol to have a meeting with the other Party without your Seconds, don't you?"

Allie held up a hand before Harry could say anything so he settled for crossing his arms. He was uncomfortably aware that the other boy probably knew a heck of a lot more about this than he did. And to complicate things, Zabini didn't seem to care for him much.

"I'm aware of it," she said. "And I didn't actually go into the meeting. Harry handled it on his own, and did quite well."

"You did?" Zabini asked, giving Harry a suddenly appraising look.

"Allie and Professor Flitwick both think so," Harry said. "I didn't agree to anything, just heard them out and promised to inform Allie of it."

"Marriage proposal?" Blaise asked.

"Yes, and already withdrawn too," Allie said. "Lucius Malfoy threatened to get his son a champion, but I think Draco's smart enough to realize what they could mean for his future."

"Um…probably," Blaise agreed.

"Any chance that Malfoy is going to apologize?" Harry asked.

"Draco isn't going to admit he insulted me on his own," Allie said, shaking her head. "I needed his father involved. If we hadn't opened our mouths in the Entrance Hall we _might_ have been able to hush up what he said in the background of the school flooding, but we didn't."

"He didn't even _know_ what he said," Blaise said. "Even I didn't fully understand all the particulars until I asked Mother."

"It doesn't matter," Allie said. "It's in the open. We need Draco to apologize for it, or we need a duel. At this point those are our options if we don't want the Mistress of Thornes involved."

"If she even _can_ get involved," Blaise said. "Mother said that she hasn't left her castle since that thing with Grindelwald and those muggles."

"She hasn't, and if you think she needs to you are a fool," Allie said simply.

"She could do that? While we're inside Hogwarts?" Blaise asked.

"I have no desire to find out," Allie said. "In any case, we cannot stay here forever, and my grandmother is just the sort of person to make a Blood Feud out of it. We all know Draco was just spouting off something he'd heard his father say. Grandmother doesn't care. She's taken it as a personal affront to the entire Thorne family."

"She already knows?" Zabini asked.

"Oh yes," Allie said. "We've been in touch by post. I think I've received more letters from her in the past ten days than I have in the entire rest of my life."

"Just what is a blood feud?" Harry asked. "You mentioned that earlier, Allie."

"She means that the Mistress of Thornes will kill off a Malfoy, one of the Malfoys will try to return the favor against one of Blackthorn's blood-kin, and the cycle continues until one family or the other—or both—is wiped out," Zabini said. "My mother's…second husband, I think, was in one of those."

"How did it go?" Harry asked.

"There's a reason why my mother married her third husband," Blaise replied.

"Oh a simple blood feud would be positively restrained for her. She'd kill anyone within, oh, seven degrees of decent of Malfoy. Say, fifth cousins as an outer boundry. And she'd include marriage as a degree so she'd kill off a bunch of his mother's maiden family and everyone _they_ are married to."

"That's a small chunk of the total population of magical England!"

"So?"

"Okay, Blackthorn. You might as well tell us what Malfoy wanted."

"Well, first he offered a marriage alliance."

"Cute," Zabini said. "Sounds sort of like my mother and her fourth husband. It certainly would wipe away the insult. You rejected it?"

"Didn't have to," Harry said, feeling rather good to have something to tell the other boy for once. "Remember who the Thornes are? She I just made Malfoy saying the wedding vows first part of her conditions of accepting."

."Oh," Zabini said, then, "_Oh!_" He nodded slowly, "Okay. That was clever. Did he offer anything else?"

"Just the bit about finding Malfoy a champion," Harry said.

"As I said, I think I've pretty much convinced Draco not to accept."

"Hiding behind his father and insinuations of duelist for hire?" Zabini asked.

"Only the former," Allie said with a frown. "You really have been talking to your mother."

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked, and quickly wished he hadn't because both Slytherins turn and looked at him.

After a moment Zabini shrugged. "Not really, but she's been in a couple of formal duels so she really understands how they work. Flitwick was a tournament duelist which isn't the same thing."

"She's also well-known for the amazing number of husbands she's had die on her under mysterious circumstances," Allie added.

"My mother never did anything wrong," Zabini protested.

"Allie didn't say she did," Harry noted softly.

They stared at each other for a bit, then Zabini laughed.

"You're not so bad for a 'puff, Potter," the other boy said. "Most of them don't know when to keep their mouths shut and wait for the right time to strike, but you don't have that problem, do you? You've been waiting for that shot for a while now."

Harry gave Zabini the slight, satisfied smirk that he'd been practicing in front of a mirror for a while now and sat back in his chair.

"Blackthorn is right, my mother is up to eight husbands, all of them dead," Zabini said.

"I'm sorry," Harry said awkwardly into the pause that followed.

It was Zabini's turn to look at him quizzically.

"About your father, I mean," Harry said defensively.

"My father's just fine," Zabini said with careless shrug. "Lives in Italy, they never married so he's right as rain, see?"

"Blaise thinks his mother is something of a joke," Allie said. "Though it isn't one he lets people in on."

"Wouldn't be funny if they knew," Zabini said. "I still remember this one time. It was four or five years ago and my mother had taken me to Diagon Alley. We had stopped in an apothecary and I was looking at unicorn horns when this dumpy witch with red hair comes bundling up to me and asks how I can possibly enjoy living with that serial husband-murderer, all the while not realizing that my mother was in the next aisle over looking at bat wool. The look on her face when she realized that mother had heard every word was so incredibly funny…"

He smiled for a moment, then shoved himself to his feet. "Well, I suppose that I have to get work on Greg then if you don't want to have to off Malfoy. Are you sure you don't—"

"Very," Allie said.

Blaise nodded and left.

\|/\|/\|/

That was the last they would talk about the duel for some time. Allie made a brief appearance at the High Lords of Chaos' post-Christmas get-together, but left shortly after presents were exchanged. Harry, for his part, spent most of the evening chatting with Parvati and Padma, who had recovered from her injuries during the break.

Mostly.

Parvati didn't quite hover, but even in the Tower of Turmoil she had taken to sitting near to her sister. Padma, Harry noted, didn't call her on it, something that he was sure she would have done before the attack. She may have recovered from her injuries, but she hadn't escaped unscathed.

It…hurt. Whenever Harry thought about it he felt a little stab of anger that he didn't know how to express. He wanted to blame himself because of his curiosity about whatever Dumbledore was hiding in the castle, but he couldn't figure out how anything he had done could have led to Padma and her attacker being trapped in that corridor during the Great Hogwarts Flood—as the event was now being called. The only other convenient target was Malfoy for insulting Allie, but blaming Malfoy for it struck Harry as sort of like blaming a puppy for piddling on the carpet.

Harry wasn't the only one that had lost enthusiasm at seeing the change that had come over the Patil twins. Fortunately the pranking the Quidditch teams was well-established, and so one very wintery Saturday they had gathered together to hit the locker-rooms in anticipation of the Ravenclaw/Slyherin game. The morning Slytherin practice went off without a hitch, but one enterprising Ravenclaw had rigged a magical camera up to a simple ward-line that caused the camera to go off when someone crossed it. To make matters worse, they had hidden the camera behind a notice-me-not charm and it had gotten at least one good picture of Harry and Ernie.

It had taken Tonks and Allie nearly an hour to figure out how to dispel the ward using only Harry and Cedric's descriptions, and then coach Cedric through re-laying it. Fortunately Justin's parents had wanted pictures of his time at Hogwarts, so while Harry had retrieved his invisibility cloak, Justin had gotten a spare pack of film from their dorm room. Ernie, meanwhile, had been sent off to Hagrid's hut to collect the school chickens.

When the Ravenclaws came back, not only did they receive blue and bronze hair dyes, but also a collection of photographs of chickens running through their locker room sporting the HLC colors of all eight house colors tie-dyed and trimmed with bright pink. They also received, at supper that day, a sternly worded letter of warning that while prank-traps were allowed, attempts to gather photographic or other evidence of the true identities of the High Lords of Chaos were not and violators could expect to receive all the humiliation due those who committed such perfidy. A giant image of tie-dyed chickens running through their locker room covered one wall.

Improvisation aside, targeting the Quidditch teams was a matter of habit. Deprived of any good targets of revenge for the Patils, Harry had taken to flying his broom in what free time he had, pushing himself to fly faster, make steeper dives and tighter turns.

This actually wasn't a bad use of his time as Thrace had come back to Hogwarts with scrolls of new plays in hand, and a vision of the Quidditch Trophy in her eyes. She immediately set to working the team hard in practice to get them ready for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor game that was traditionally held on the Sunday after St. Valentine's Day.

No longer content to have Harry circle about when facing off what was widely regarded to be one of the best teams in the school, she had sent him back to Cedric to learn some of the advanced Seeker strategies. So Harry had had to learn the Wronski Feint and the Seeker Side-Shuffle and the Dice Throw—which was sort of like rolling only it was done forward-to-back or vice-versa instead of side-to-side—which Cedric said was even more impractical than it looked, but it looked really impressive.

Their third such practice had disappeared into a blizzard. Casper Adams warned against ice accumulation on the bludgers, and Mort predicted that someone was going to lose a head because they couldn't see the enchanted spheres. Cedric put the warning down to Mort being in Divination, but all it took was one shockingly-close miss for to Harry find it made a frightful amount of sense. More problematical was that with visibility rapidly shrinking, they couldn't see the pitch to keep in bounds. Finally, Thrace had flown up to one of the sets of goals and scrawled in giant glowing letters above the rings: NEITHER SNOW NOR RAIN NOR HEAT NOR GLOOM OF NIGHT SHALL STOP THESE QUIDDITCH PLAYERS IN THEIR GAME.

To Harry this sounded like a recipe for disaster, but it did make a handy point of reference for determining where he was. Fortunately Mortimer and Casper had spotted the snitch and cracked it between their bats. This wasn't quite a foul since they didn't actually touch it with their hands, but it violated the spirit of at least three rules. They had then batted it back and forth until Harry could snatch its shattered pieces out of mid-air. All in all, Harry was quite content to sacrifice one of his practice snitches to get Thrace to call it a practice, which was when he found out about her last bit of news.

"I didn't want to trouble you before practice," Thrace said as they lined up to go into the locker room.

"That's never a good sign," Tonks commented.

"Usually you _like_ troubling us before practices," Casper added. "You say that the harder it is for us the better."

Trace glared at him.

"Right, then," she said severely. "Professor Snape is refereeing the next game."

"What?" Harry blurted.

"You heard me," she said grimly. "Snape is refing the game against the gryffs."

"But…he can't _do_ that!" Fred—Winifredericka was really too much of a mouthful for anyone to use—protested.

"Apparently he can," Thrace said.

"But he has a team playing! It'd be like-like-like Windsoar Wimble-Burton refereeing in the All-Isles Cup!"

Harry looked at Cedric who was standing next to him.

"Wimble-Burton is Head Coach and Seeker Coach for England," Cedric said. "The man's a genius, tried to get Charlie Weasley to play for England."

"Slytherin has a pretty good team and they're definitely going to be in contention. If he calls excessive fouls, or doesn't call fouls, or does both to different sides, he could sabotage one of the team's chances of winning the Quidditch Cup!" Casper shouted.

"Or there could be excessive injuries," Mort added. "We could spend weeks in the Hospital wing. I know Madam Pomfrey is a fine medi-witch, but I don't want to spend that long in her care."

All of them gave tiny little shudders.

"And if that happened we would lose weeks, if not more, of practice time. Time that we'll certainly need to get ready if we're going to have a chance of beating Slytherin," Tonks said grimly. "No offense, Harry, but Higgs has been playing a lot longer than you."

"And he's pretty good," Cedric said. "But at least I can help Harry prep—"

"Unless you or he, or you _and_ he, are in the hospital wing," Mort muttered.

"—I can't do that where the Gryffs are concerned, their Seeker is new this year too."

"And Snape hates me," Harry said. He wasn't going to say anything about Snape, the Forbidden Corridor, and the speculation that Snape wanted whatever was in it. For one thing it'd take too long to explain, and for another it didn't really change anything, and in any case he didn't have any proof. Telling them that Snape hated him wasn't anything they hadn't heard before, however, and unlike Snape and the corridor, he had ample witnesses and incidents.

"I know," Thrace said. "Look, I know all of the problems. None of you have said anything that I didn't say when I found out. I'm going to talk with Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch about it, but for now we have to assume that nothing is going to change at that we're going to be playing with a ref who has ulterior motives and is anything but impartial. I want you all to think about it, and what it means for us. Now go in, get dry, and get some rest."

\|/\|/\|/

"If she can't get Hooch to change her mind," Cedric shouted over the storm a little while later as he, Harry, and Tonks trudged back to the castle, "you could always pretend to break your leg."

Harry held onto the line that had been magically stretched from Hogwarts to the Pitch so that they could find their way back. With the way night had come earlier they would have almost needed the rope even if the blizzard hadn't set in. As they walked, he contemplated his chances of really breaking his leg in the nearly hip-deep snow that was drifting around him.

"Better if he really broke his leg," Tonks shouted back as though hearing his thoughts. "That way he could get Pomfrey to write a note or something. If the weather is like this, we might think about doing it anyway since you're heavier, Ced. If we put Harry up he just might get blown away."

"Or we could just tie a tether to Harry's broom and then reel him back in after the match."

"Funny," Harry said. "I thought blizzards only came in like this in Siberia or Norway or something."

"This is Hogwarts," Tonks said. Her tone suggested that those three words explained everything.

On reflection, Harry wasn't sure that they didn't.

"Are either of you starting to feel warm?" he asked.

"It's the storm and the snow," Cedric said. "It makes you work harder to move and you don't move as fast so you heat up. Loosen your cloak some but don't open it all the way."

Harry tried this and it helped a little, but he still felt uncomfortably hot and his scar prickled. He wiped at it and his hand came away sticky with sweat, but his scar still tingled.

Tonks gave a cry that was stolen by the wind and the rope went slack in Harry's hands.

"Tonks," he cried. "_Tonks!_"

"What happened?" Cedric said.

"Tonks fell and I think she might have broken the rope," Harry said, grasping the loose rope in his right hand as he groped around on the ground. Something grabbed onto the back of his cloak and he started to turn but Cedric stopped him.

"I've got you and the rope," Cedric shouted. "Find Tonks!"

"I'm right here!" Tonks shouted, but the snow muffled her voice and made it impossible to tell which direction it was coming from. She said a word that he knew would have impressed Parvati and made Padma scowl in disapproval. A wand-tip flared to bright light from only a little ahead of them.

"Okay, Harry, go," Cedric said.

Harry struggled forward through the snow, Cedric's grip on the back of his cloak slowing him almost as much as the snow itself did. At last he reached Tonks and her glowing wand.

"Tonks, what happened?" Cedric asked.

"It wasn't my fault this time," Tonks said, her normally bubblegum-pink hair slowly shading to a furious crimson. She held up the end of the rope. The fibers all seemed to have parted cleanly. "This didn't snap or fray on its own. Someone or something cut this, Diggory."

Cedric and Harry stared at it for a moment. "I left my wand in my dorm," Harry said.

"So did I," Cedric admitted. "Can you find Hogwarts?"

"I can use a Point-Me spell. It's a handy little direction-finding charm," Tonks said.

"Easy?"

Tonks nodded, "I'll show it to you later. I have to put out the wand to use it."

"Go ahead," Harry said, grabbing the back of her robes.

The light went out.

"Point me Hogwarts!" Tonks cried. Then, "It's this way."

But they didn't manage more than three paces before the hot sensation Harry had been feeling began to burn. He let go of Tonks and cried out, scrambling for his robes and whatever was burning inside them. He felt a tight cord and jerked on it, the phoenix amulet that Allie had given him for his birthday and he had half-forgotten about popped out with a simple tug of its leather thong.

As soon as it was exposed to the frigid night air the phoenix of carved amber burst into scarlet and gold flames. It was no longer hot, at least not so Harry could feel it, but it melted the snow right out of the sky and bathed them in little puffs of steam, and light that extended further than the light from Tonks' wand.

Something shadowy and indistinct hovered at the edge of the circle of golden-red light.

Harry's scar split and felt like it was burning a moment before something upset and very, very close by shrieked its displeasure into the night. He could feel its outrage, its hatred, like a physical weight that slammed into him and sent him to the ground, but he had the presence of mind to keep the burning phoenix amulet raised as high as he could.

It shrieked again, but then there was the sound of something flapping in the wind or moving quickly across the top of the snow rather than blundering through it. The pain eased except for a throbbing headache.

"Harry?" Cedric called.

A hand fastened around Harry's wrist and he was jerked out of the snow. Cedric held him up until he could get his feet under him.

"What was that?" he asked quickly.

"I don't know," Cedric said.

Tonks gave a mute shake of her head. She looked uncommonly serious and her wand drifted back and forth in some kind of defensive posture.

"What is that thing?" Cedric asked, gesturing toward the amulet.

Harry looked at it. It was no longer burning, the flames had disappeared without causing any apparent harm, but it still glowed with a gold-colored light. "A gift," he said.

"Some gift," Cedric said with wide eyes. "I mean, I've _heard_ about things like that, but I've never seen one for real."

"It was only supposed to grow warm when I was in danger and to glow in dark places. Bursting into flames…there was nothing like that when—I was told about it," he said, deciding against telling them about Allie or how it supposedly had protection spells laced onto it. But he did wonder if it was the light that had chased off whatever it was, or if it had been whatever protection spells Allie had placed on it. "I think…I think we should get back to Hogwarts," he said, then looked up at Cedric and Tonks

"As quickly as possible."

\|/\|/\|/

Albus Dumbledore stood in his office staring out the window at the blizzard that had enveloped the castle and spoke a single, heartfelt, word.

"Damn."

Luck. There was far too much luck going around on all sides. He hated luck. The stuff was impossible to predict, impossible to direct, impossible to do anything with except screw up plans.

Luck that it was Quirrell who had run into the troll instead of one of the teachers who would have handled it themselves. Luck that Harry's friend alerted him to Ms. Granger not being with her House. Luck that they arrived before the troll could kill her. Luck that they had run into Pomona and young Nymphadora before the troll could kill them. Luck that the halls had flooded, providing an opportunity for whomever it was to go after the…object. Luck that Padma Patil was there to delay that same person for long enough to make going after the object impossible. Luck that Thorne had been there to save Padma's life. Luck that a blizzard had hit the school to provide an opportunity to attack Harry. Luck that Thorne had given Harry that amulet.

Far, far too much luck.

What to do about it? Plot, plan, and hope that future luck was at least manageable. It was really all that he could do at this stage of the game.

What to do about the attack? He didn't even know what it was except that, maybe, it was the thing killing unicorns and, doubtfully, drinking their blood.

A vampire that had completely lost its senses and hoped that the Elixir could restore it? Albus wasn't certain, but he rather expected, taking into account what little he remembered of Dippel—who had worked in that area of study but whose experiments had been rather too grisly to hold Albus' interest—that if a vampire were to imbibe the Elixir of Life it would destroy the vampire utterly.

Too dangerous to leave some of the stuff sitting out and waiting to see what happened.

Too bad Harry wouldn't let me study that amulet. Also perfectly understandable, but disappointing nonetheless.

But what to do? Lock down the castle? Restrict movements? Cancel Quidditch? All things he might well have to do in the next few years, but right now everyone thought it was a creature that lived in the Forbidden Forest and he wasn't sure that they were wrong. In that case doing anything would be both premature and useless. And if it lived in the castle…

Against any enemy in the open, any army in the world, he was confident that Hogwarts could stand them off. Not forever, perhaps, but long enough. But against a single person, moving surreptitiously, he was no longer as confident as he had been that summer.

Measures would have to be taken to move it. Unfortunately that would have to wait for the summer holiday when there were no children present.

What he really should do was break the…object, publicly and in a way that could not be doubted. But Nicholas had said that it must remain intact past the vernal equinox. To the summer solstice would be best, but at least the equinox. It was a strange kind of foretelling that had little to do with divination, but much to do with having lived enough history to being to feel ripples and detect patterns in it and how it should play out.

It wasn't perfect. Even Nicholas could not predict the optimum outcome. All he could try to do was direct the future towards one that was less…bad. But to do otherwise, to destroy the Stone out of hand right now when Nicholas seemed to certain that it needed to remain intact for three months more, preferably six… If Nicholas said to wait until the solstice, then that was just what he had to do.

But if there was little else he could do against whoever was stalking his castle, he could still take preparatory measures against the future.

"Memo," he muttered. On his disk behind him a quill stood up, dipped itself in an elaborate silver inkwell, and poised over a scrap of parchment. "Have the house-elfs begin putting in stocks in anticipation of a siege lasting not less than…thirteen years."

Thirteen, a good, solid, magical number. Not as strong as three or powerful as seven, but robust and in this case better to err on the side of caution.

"Expect refugees and dependants to fill all wings and unused areas."

It was a pity that much of Hogwarts was closed. Indeed, it never in its thousand and more years of history had been fully in use. The Founders had anticipated the growth of magical education and left room for it to expand into, but it had never reached the extent they anticipated.

_Had not yet_, Albus corrected himself firmly. Class sizes had been shrinking for more than sixty years, first because of Gellert's foolish war, then because of Tom and his.

Once peace was restored families would grow. It had happened before, after all. With growth would come more students with them the need for more teachers. In time they could offer more subjects, studies in specific animals for those with such proclivities, or perhaps alchemy. Wouldn't _that_ be something? No school in the world in the last century and a quarter had run an alchemy class that had lasted for more than three years, and many shut down far more quickly.

"Designate emergency medical wards and lay in basic stocks for them."

He would need to discuss with Poppy what potions would need to be stockpiled and how to do so to preserve their use. Also he would need to find out which they could safely purchase and which they should see to replenishing themselves. Such matters would have to be seen to carefully. Gathering supplies would take months, possibly years, lest he'd draw unwanted attention.

"Build racks for storing potions of all kinds, place into storage in anticipation of future need. Likewise assemble storage units for holding potion ingredients in all kinds of preparations, and place also into storage."

Severus too would need to be consulted. His advice for preparing for a siege, and his knowledge of potions, would be nearly as important as…whatever else he might be called upon to do.

"Set aside some places to be designated as armories. Assemble storage racks for weapons. Finish."

The quill finished scrawling out all of this in Dumbledore's rather loopy handwriting before flopping to one side, leaving the memo on the center of the desk.

There. He had conceded the point to the future. The war was coming, and he had just acknowledged that Hogwarts might be placed in the center of it. Did he have a choice? If he retired, if he left Hogwarts, would it be spared?

The fire in his fireplace guttered slightly.

"You like that idea no more than I do," Albus whispered. "But if the safety of the students could be assured."

The fire in the fireplace guttered again.

"I see," he said heavily. "In that case we shall face it together, Old Friend."

After a moment he shook himself, shedding his melancholy like a dog shedding water after a bath. "Now, about Severus' petition to referee the next Quidditch match. It's so nice to see him finely expressing interest about taking an active role in extracurricular activities, but there is a reason why we have a dedicated flying instructor and it isn't like she has all that much work. Still, Severus did have a point where Harry's safety is concerned."

"As though he'd be able to stop a magical attack while perched on top of a broom," the Sorting Hat scoffed.

"He would certainly be closer and in a better position to help Harry," Albus replied, then lifted a hand before the Sorting Hat could speak again. "But this is about Severus, not Harry. He used to take so much joy from flying, but hasn't been on a broom in years. It's a good sign if he's expressing interest again."

\|/\|/\|/

The night after the attack Harry was content to sit by the fireplace and read the alchemy text that Allie had given him. Next to him on a side table was a leather-bound book with an embossed cover and spine decorated with gold tooling. It had been a gift from Justin, intended for Harry to use for his first _grimoire_, and one of the high-rag paper pages was already half-covered in an intricate spell diagram that should, in a year or two, help him to repeat on purpose what he had done Halloween night in the girl's bathroom.

_Many believe that the sole purpose of Alchemy is a fool's quest, that its only worthwhile endeavor is the creation of the Philosopher's Stone (see Chapter 3). The Truth is the exact opposite. Alchemy does not exist for the purposes of the Stone, so much as that the Stone exists for the purposes of alchemy. To create the Philosopher's Stone is to achieve the merely physical end of a journey that encompasses the Mind and the Spirit, Arte of Magic and Science, Rude Flesh and Divine Splendor. As the Many Things are of this One Thing, so is the One Thing of Many Things._

_Alchemy is not a quest to rise above the earthly senses as it is to release oneself from such senses. To find the Philosopher's Stone is to understand the essential secret of nature, to understand the rules and laws that by which the natural orders are ordained. To arrive at this point is nothing less than to have achieved perfect Wisdom, of which the Stone is the physical embodiment. To most the Stone is the great prize at the end of the journey, but the Alchemist who creates it knows that the Philosopher's Stone's greatest value is what it represents._

Harry considered this, the opening paragraphs, for a minute or so before tugging at the silk place-marking ribbon and opening to an earlier passage.

_Perhaps one of the most misunderstood alchemy texts is the short passage known variously as _The Emerald Tablet, Tabula Smaragdina,_ or_ The Secret of Hermes. _Some, almost always novices or those with only a rudimentary understanding of Alchemy, claim that the Tablet provides a guide to the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. Alchemists, however, believe that the Tablet reveals the ancient secret of the Primordial Substance and its transmutations. Although, to conceded the point, since the Primordial Substance is the One Thing that the Many Things come from, and the Philosopher's Stone is the One Thing that is created by the Many Things, to understand the Primordial Substance is to understand the truest qualities of the Philosopher's Stone._

Harry flipped back to the previous section and continued reading.

_Only a handful of alchemists have created the Philosopher's Stone, following a variety of sources. Perhaps the most famous is _theBook of Abraham the Jew_, which found its way into the hands of a scribe named Nicholas Flamel in the fourteenth century._

Harry stopped and stared at the book for several long minutes, then quickly flipped to the last pages. Nothing, there was no index. He flipped it open to the table of contents, then to chapter three. There was nothing about Nicholas Flamel in that chapter either, though there was a little more about the Philosopher's Stone.

He stood and crossed to where Justin and Ernie were doing charms homework and mutely flipped the book open before them and pointed.

"You found him," Ernie said first. "But look at that date. We live longer than muggles, but even for a wizard he can't possibly be alive."

"Some kind of descendant, probably," Justin said. "That would make sense, wouldn't it, Ernie?"

Ernie nodded slowly, "But I can't recall ever hearing of the Flamels before."

"They could be foreign," Justin said. He looked at Harry. "Is that all it says?"

Harry shrugged, "I haven't read it through completely yet, but there's no index. I skimmed the chapter about the Philosopher's Stone, but there's no mention of either him or that book, _the Book of Abraham the Jew_. I figure if Flamel had made the Philosopher's Stone the books would have said it, right? I mean, if he had access to it he'd still be alive and not just some descendant involved with whatever Dumbledore is hiding, right?"

"What about the _Encyclopedia Magica_?" Justin asked. "You have a copy, right? If this Book-thing is so well-known, maybe it's in there."

Harry wanted to smack his head. "Of course, and we can look for Flamel there too."

"You mean you haven't?" Justin asked, standing.

Harry shook his head, feeling rather stupid. "I forgot."

"You and Justin go check. I'll let the others know," Ernie said. "We'll meet up in the Tower."

"I'll take care of Allie," Harry said. The Slytherin dungeons weren't exactly across the school from the Hufflepuff sett, but they weren't close, and of all the common rooms Slytherin was furthest from the Tower.

They had devised a simple method of calling together the High Lords of Chaos. So after Harry and Justin disappeared into the dorms, Ernie went up to Cedric and let him know that Harry was retiring because of the excitement of the attack after the Quidditch practice. Retiring was one of the keywords they had agreed upon that could be worked into an ordinary conversation. Being nearer to her in age, Cedric would attract less attention going to Tonks. Ernie, meanwhile, would go to the owlery where he would pen short notes to each of the Patils, each note ostensibly from the other sister.

Harry had gone immediately to the small bookshelf in his room and pulled out the A, B, E, F, and P volumes of the _Encyclopedia Magica_ and tossed them on his bed. Then he opened his trunk and pulled his invisibility cloak out of the bottom of it, spilling the last of the chocolate frogs that Hermione had gotten him for Christmas onto the floor.

By now Harry had long-since perfected his technique of snapping off the animated frog's legs and he stuck one in his mouth as he rooted around in a side-compartment of his trunk that held a limited supply of owl-order pranks. Ordering the various devices hadn't been hard, but sneaking them past Filch, who had long experience with the Weasley boys, had taken a great deal of thought.

Fortunately the owners of the pranks shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade had just as much experience at getting their merchandise past the caretaker as Filch had intercepting it. The first package had come in a cunningly crafted false-bottom of a care-package filled with baked goods that would have been convincing to anyone who didn't know of his Aunt and Uncle. The next three had both been delivered by Hedwig flying out with a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Patil from Parvati or Padma, after which the package had been picked up, and then dropped off in a secluded part of the grounds, the first by the lake, and the third in the graveyard north of the castle. The second package of the three had gone missing and likely found either confiscated by Filch or repurposed by Fred and George Weasley.

"A lot of stuff in here about alchemy," Justin said. "Nothing at all about _the Book of Abraham the Jew_. What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the small device Harry had pulled out of his trunk as he picked up the E volume.

"A distraction for Slytherin dorms," Harry said.

"What about the Ghost-Net?" Justin asked, referring to the small group of ghosts that had signed on with the Chaos Lords and provided lookouts, messengers, and the occasional distraction.

"It isn't organized as all that," Harry said. "The Bloody Baron is no one's messenger and the only ghosts allowed in the common room and dorms are that house's resident ghost. We can't even send Peeves." He glanced at the Famous Wizard card. Dumbledore again.

"What is it?" Justin asked.

Harry glanced up at him from the card. "I don't know, something I…" he flipped the card over. "I _knew_ Flamel was familiar. Look."

Justin took the card and read the back. "Dumbledore, Grindelwald—ten pin bowling?" he looked up at Harry quizzically and Harry gestured for him to keep reading, "—and his work in alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel."

The other Hufflepuff boy looked up at Harry. "I've got this stuff, you go and get Allie." He hesitated, "do you want us to get Weasley and Granger as well?"

The Patils had taken things in stride, but Harry's friends in Hufflepuff had been really put off by how easily Ron had gotten them to turn on a person who, if they weren't quite friends with, were at least _friendly_ with. Harry wasn't sure if it was because of some violation of Hufflepuff loyalty or because it had hurt him or something else entirely. Personally he would have liked to have had Ron and Hermione there, but he could fill them in on what he had found out just as easily and if it made them more comfortable…

Besides, Ron, for reasons Harry _still_ could not understand, seemed to think of Allie much the same way that Snape thought of him. Allie, for the most part, seemed to consider the Gryffindor as being beneath her notice which only infuriated Ron more.

If anything had become clear over the last few months this whole having friends thing was much more work than it had appeared when he hadn't had any.

Harry wouldn't have traded it for anything.

Still, just because he liked having friends and wanted them around didn't mean that he had to put them into situations where they would only fight with each other.

"No," he told Justin. "We still haven't told them about the Tower. Besides, I can fill them in later."

"Right then," Justin said, gathering up the books after using the Dumbledore Famous Wizard card as a bookmark. "You get going."

Harry snatched up his cloak and hurried from the dorm and into the burrows. A long twisting passage curved down and down and around and around until it ended at an iron-bound oak door that led into the second-level dungeons. Two passages, three turns, and a trick staircase later he was near the corridor that held the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

He pulled the cloak over him and slunk down the corridor to stand before a blank section of wall. Looking around to make sure no one was coming he pulled out the device he had taken from his trunk. It looked sort of like a golf-ball stuck on top of a cricket ball, with a knob projecting from on side, a large soup-spoon held against both with glue, a red T-handle on top, and a pin, like the one Madam Malkin had used to pin up his robes months ago, stuck in the smaller ball.

He pumped the red handle twice, then tapped the knob three times and gave it a quarter-turn to the left.

Harry looked the device over once more, checked the hall again, and carefully let an arm out of the cover of the cloak.

"Superiority," he told the wall. It shimmered and disappeared.

Quickly he snatched the pin sticking from the top of the device and pulled it out.

"One," Harry said the password that activated the device quickly, "two, five."

"Three, sir! Three!" the device barked.

The spoon broke off with a tinny _ping_ and Harry threw the device into the opening. The wall shimmered closed behind it.

Harry ran.

\|/\|/\|/

Everyone in the Slytherin common room surreptitiously looked up when the entrance slid open. It wasn't late or even nearing curfew, but in a House known for its cunning one quickly learned to keep track of the comings and goings of one's housemates. Thus, almost everyone saw the little object come flying in and the entrance seal shut behind it.

The more enterprising of the lot knew that no good could come of this and immediately sought shelter in the dorms or raised shielding spells as the device bounced off an end-table, a chair-back, the head of Goyle (who grunted slightly but otherwise didn't seem to notice), and a pale white cat that was busily, but neatly, eating a blood-pop—nobody was quite sure who the cat or the blood-pop belonged to—and landed on the floor in front of a couch occupied by one Draco Malfoy.

The device rested on its side for a moment, then slowly the larger ball began to spin, the smaller ball attached to it likewise spinning around the larger ball. Slowly it righted itself until the smaller ball was perched on top of the larger ball, when it stopped.

Draco reached down to pick it up. Just as his fingers made contact the device squawked.

"_I_," it announced in a high-pitched voice accented with self-important splendor, "am a ten-second dung-bomb! I am a ten second dung-bomb! Ten! Nine! Eight!..."

\|/\|/\|/

By the time Harry reached the Tower of Turmoil the rest of the High Lords were already present.

"What kept you?" Ernie asked.

"Mrs. Norris," Harry said, folding his cloak.

"I have to ask," Allie said, crossing her arms. "A ten-second dung-bomb? Really?"

"A _what_?" Justin asked.

"Harry threw a ten-second dung-bomb into the common room," Allie said. "It just started announcing itself. 'I am a ten-second dung-bomb. I am a ten-second dung-bomb. Ten. Nine. Eight…

"According to Parkinson the thing landed right in front of Draco," Allie continued. She let a smirk slip and added, "It got him pretty good too."

"I see you made it out all right," Harry observed.

"I was in my dorm. I just stayed there when I heard the scramble to get out of the common room and slipped out after the explosion. So what happened?"

"Two things," Harry said. He explained about the blizzard and the apparent attack against him, Cedric, and Tonks.

"It burst into flames?" Allie repeated when he had finished.

Harry nodded.

"Can we see it?" Ernie asked.

Harry fished out of the phoenix amulet and took it off, holding it up for them to see by the leather thong.

"Where'd you find it?" Ernie asked.

"I gave it to him for his birthday," Allie said flatly, crossing the room. "May I?"

At Harry's nod she lifted it by the thong and peered at the amulet. "Nothing I put on this should have made it burst into flames. Grow hot, yes, but not so hot as to burn. And whatever protections it carried might block very basic thaumaturgy used against you, possibly even as much as a leg-locker curse. Standing off a dark creature of any ilk should be quite beyond it."

She poked the phoenix with a finger and yelped. She stuck her burned finger in her mouth and quickly passed the amulet back to Harry.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Only for someone else, someone other than you," Allie said, waving the injured finger around before wetting it again. "I don't know who modified it, or what they did, but something powerful has touched that, Harry. Either it's someone that wants to help or guard you, or it's someone that wants you for him- or herself. Either way, don't let it out of your sight until this year is over. In fact, it'd be better if you never took it off."

"If you don't know what it is, maybe we should go to Dumbledore about it," Tonks said. "I mean, just because it stood off…whatever it was…"

"That thing is probably the only reason you, Diggory, and Harry are alive," Allie said flatly. "After this school year is over, I'd agree with you. Until whatever it was that tried to kill you is gone, losing it would only put Harry—and anyone around him—in more danger than we all are already."

Tonks nodded unhappily and turned back to Harry. "You said that there were two things?"

Harry nodded to Justin who opened one of the volumes of the _Encyclopedia Magica_.

"We found Nicholas Flamel," Justin said as the Dumbledore Famous Wizard Card fluttered to the floor.

Allie knelt and picked it up, and froze. "Tonks, fire, right now," she snapped, running a finger across the surface of the card.

Harry looked at her quizzically, but Tonks didn't hesitate. She whipped out her wand, pointed at a patch of bare stone floor, and conjured a small fire into which Allie quickly fed the card.

"Sorry about that, Harry, I'll replace it," Allie said.

"That's okay, I have another," Harry said, "But why…" he gestured to the fire.

"That was Dumbledore's card," Allie said. "Tonks said that he was having me followed through the portraits, remember? I tried to put a binding on it so that he couldn't leave and tell another of his cards or portraits. I don't know enough about portraits and pictures to know if the binding was enough or if it held long enough for the fire to reduce Dumbledore, or what happened after the card was destroyed."

"Why would he be following you?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. I'll be sure to ask next time I see him," Allie said as Tonks vanished the fire. "Harry, unless we want the Old Man up here I suggest that you change the password immediately."

Harry nodded.

"Why bother? It doesn't work unless your wand is keyed to it," Ernie said.

"Do you really want to rely on that where the _Headmaster_ of Hogwarts is concerned?" Padma asked.

"And we shouldn't leave here that way," Parvati added.

"Oh?" Tonks asked the younger girl. "Just how do you propose we leave then?"

"I don't suppose any of you left your brooms up here?" Parvati asked.

"It's a blizzard out there!" Tonks protested.

"Look, I'm going to go reset the password," Harry said. "We can decide how we're going to leave, and I can key you in, later."

He hurried down the stairs, past the rooms that were slowly filling with potion supplies, pranks in progress, odds and ends found around the castle that might have a future use, Allie's lab, Tonks' lab, the locked door that was covered with magical Seals that held the bubbling potions. At last he reached the Tower door and placed his wand in the keyhole.

"The password is—" Harry stopped, then withdrew his wand as he thought. Literary phrases had become something of a pattern and he wanted a good one. "The password is 'do not meddle in the affairs of wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger.'"

That was pretty appropriate he decided. He could have wished for something shorter, but that would do quite nicely.

Harry hurried back upstairs to find his friends standing around morosely.

"We really need some furniture in here," Tonks said after a moment.

"What did we find out?" Harry asked.

"Well, it seems pretty certain that the Headmaster's friend is the same Nicholas Flamel that created the Philosopher's Stone back in the fourteenth century," Padma said.

"Which means the Philosopher's Stone is probably what's being hidden in the school," her sister said.

\|/\|/\|/

So significant was the discovery of Flamel that Harry completely forgot that Snape was going to referee their match against Gryffindor.

That lasted all the way until the next practice.

A kind of manic nervousness had the entire team on edge. Mort and Casper had taken to having long conversations about whether to use hickory beater bats or if oak would be better. One afternoon Cedric spread his entire collection of broomstick shaft oils across the floor of the broom-maintenance area and refused to allow them to be moved. Thrace would stop them in the halls, or sit down at meals, and start describing plays using her hands and the odd bit of food to demonstrate.

They talked about Snape and his motives. Snape would favor the Hufflepuffs to keep the Gryffindor score down which would give his own team a less of a point-spread to have to overcome for the Cup. Snape would favor Gryffindor because of his animosity towards Hufflepuff. Snape would do his best to see that the most members from both teams were sent to the Hospital wing so that he could use their spilled blood and amputated limbs for ghastly potion experiments.

By the morning of the game Thrace was barely able to get out her pep talk. Since Harry had a hard time concentrating enough to hear it, he didn't catch most of it that she got out. They shuffled out onto the field, brooms clenched in white fingers, eyes staring off across the pitch without seeing the far side.

Standing in the middle like the ringmaster of a demonic circus stood Severus Snape.

They stared at him.

He stared back. Then his face twisted into a grotesque mask as he did something that all the seventh years swore was impossible, and would cause several first years who had been observing through binoculars to wake up in the middle of the night screaming in terror for the next three weeks.

He smiled.

"Welcome," he said, causing the players on both teams to flinch. "I want a good clean game today…Potter."

Harry flinched.

Snape smiled again.

"Captains, shake hands."

Thrace and Wood both lunged forward. They quickly grasped hands. Just as quickly they let them go. Never once did they take their eyes off of Snape.

"Mount your brooms."

They did so, with alacrity.

Snape released the balls, and they took off…

\|/\|/\|/

A/N: Ten-second dung-bomb inspired by R. A. Heinlein and Monty Python. I do not own a ten-second dung-bomb, but I do own a much-battered copy of _Starship Troopers_.


	18. Chapter 18:Affairs of Honor

**Chapter 18: Affairs of Honor**

"_I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him."  
_-Mark Twain-

\|/\|/\|/

_**January**_

Harry once more entered the small office Flitwick had set for the purpose of overseeing the duel. This time he was accompanied by Blaise Zabini. As before, Draco Malfoy was already waiting. This time his father was not in the room, though he was accompanied by both Goyle and Crabbe.

"This meeting is to settle the terms of your duel," Flitwick said, giving a disapproving look at Malfoy. "Mister Malfoy has requested that he present the first order of business."

Blaise nodded, and in short order Crabbe officially became one of Malfoy's Seconds.

"And now, Mr. Potter, choice of contest?" Flitwick asked.

Allie, as the Challenged party, was allowed her choice of several methods of deciding a duel. That they could duel with magic using one of several different sets of rules that dictated everything from what clothes (read armor) could be worn, to distance, to what spells could and could not be used, hadn't come as much of a surprise to Harry. That Allie could choose, instead of magic, everything from unarmed combat, to a choice of weapons, to a battle of wills, had. In fact, there were a further three options—for a total of seven—that she technically had the right to, but Judgment by Magic had only been used in the last five centuries to settle Blood Feuds, and the Labyrinth and Gauntlet had been more or less restricted to use in legal trials, and even then they were very rare. A judgment could be overturned, after all; magic could not. However, the last two remained technically allowable as both Allie and Malfoy were heirs to the Head of Family of two different pureblood families.

Allie had definitely had a preference for which of the seven she would like, but how to get Malfoy to agree to those terms had been the topic of several meetings.

"First, I move that the Labyrinth and Gauntlet be excluded from the list of acceptable forms," Harry said.

It was a sensible move that Zabini had suggested as an opening position and Harry had agreed with. Nor was it a position that Malfoy was likely to object to for both Labyrinth and Gauntlet assumed a certain capacity for magic that the first years didn't have. By having Harry present it, it looked like both were doing the negotiating instead of Blaise who would drive the more contentious part. All three had agreed that it was unlikely that Malfoy was going to allow Crabbe and Goyle to make those decisions for him.

Malfoy agreed and that part of it was done.

What followed next was something they hadn't agreed on. Zabini and Allie had determined that the only way to get the duel they wanted was to control the process, which was fine as far as it went and Harry agreed with it. Allie wanted a contest of will as the nature of their duel, and Harry would have preferred to just go ahead and call it and be done with it rather than risk Malfoy doing something unexpected.

As challenged, Allie got to propose the method of settling their differences. But Malfoy could profess, upon his honor, that he was incapable of a method, he could name a counter-method. Blaise' fear was that Malfoy would use this to reject Will. If he did, he could then accuse Allie of proposing a type of duel that she knew he was unsuitable for. If he did that then not only would it become harder for both sides to back away from a duel, but Flitwick, as the Master of the Field, would rule on the accusation.

If he found in favor of Allie, Allie could propose a second method. If he found in favor of Malfoy then Malfoy could make a counter-proposal. If he did, he was almost certain to choose Magic. Allie, as challenged party, could demure and then offer another proposal, but if she choose Will and Malfoy again tried to bow out of it and Flitwick let him, then their only choices were blades and one-shot pistols, the latter had been written in as a carry over from the Irish Code Duello back in the late seventeen-hundreds and as far as Blaise knew, had never actually been used.

Allie's biggest fear was that Malfoy would reject that as well. To date her grandmother was impatient with her over how quickly she was resolving the duel, but inclined to let her settle matters. If Malfoy were to stall them she'd likely lose what little patience she had and declare a blood-feud.

"Our choice unarmed combat," Blaise said, staking out their opening position. It was a choice that had surprised Harry even more than finding out that pistols were an option, apparently added only a century before. The best guess he could come up with was that some pureblood misunderstood what the Marquis of Queensbury Rules were. Certainly Allie and Zabini didn't have a better explanation.

"And roll around on the floor like a couple of filthy muggles?" Malfoy demanded.

"Mister Malfoy, I encourage you to guard your language, sir!" Flitwick protested, using the somewhat archaic speech that Harry noticed he used at these meetings.

"Nonetheless, it is our choice," Harry said, falling into his assigned role of defending their choice. "Ms. Blackthorn is perfectly willing with…how did you put it—'rolling around on the floor?' We are quite comfortable with the associated provisions."

"Well I'm _not_ comfortable with it," Malfoy sneered. "I invoke my right to set it aside as being beneath me and name Magic as the proper implement, as befitting Wizards."

"But Ms. Blackthorn is not a wizard," Blaise said mildly when Flitwick did not immediately object.

"I doubt that either you know enough magic to seriously harm one another," Harry delivered the scripted lines with a practiced shake of his head. "Besides, I can imagine few deaths more ignominious than to be killed by accident by someone incapable of killing on purpose. And Ms. Blackthorn will not thank us if she becomes a laughing stock for being known as defeating Malfoy with a miss-cast spell."

Flitwick quickly took a measured sip of tea, and Harry found that he had to do the same lest he burst out laughing as Malfoy sputtered next to him.

"No, Mr. Malfoy," Blaise cut in. "Mr. Potter is correct, we must refuse, therefore we name Will…unless you would prefer pistols at high noon?" he asked acerbically.

Malfoy scowled and looked at Flitwick. Technically the sarcastic question was a fault in protocol. When the tiny Charms Master didn't say anything the scowl turned first to a frown, then a vaguely puzzled look. "Done," he said after a moment more. He rose without waiting for Harry, Blaise or Flitwick to say anything further and stalked from the room.

\|/\|/\|/

"What are you thinking, Albus?"

Albus twitched his bushy mustache. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" Flitwick repeated. "_Interesting_? It was as carefully a scripted negotiation as any I've ever heard of. They practically _baited_ him into agreeing to Will as the method of their duel. If you and Severus are correct about her degree of control then it stands to reason that her strength of Will must be impressive."

Albus looked up sharply. "Repeat that, Filius?"

"What? That her strength of Will must be impressive?"

"No, before that," Albus said.

"If you and Severus are correct about her degree of control—"

"_Stop!_" Albus rose and paced to his window. "Degree of control…" he murmured. "There is only one person, I think, who knows just how great her control is. Strength enough to command a friend not to die?"

"Albus," Flitwick said. "Madam Pomfrey looked Ms. Patil over quite thoroughly, I assure you, and I did the same checking for evidence of whoever had assaulted her. Ms. Blackthorn's and Mr. Fowler's methods were, to quote Poppy, 'brutal muggle methods, but effective enough under the circumstances'. There were no traces of any compulsion magic, much less anything darker.

"This isn't like the last time. Nobody was ordered to cut their own throats, and Ms. Patil certainly wasn't compelled to hurt herself and then throw herself into the River Hogwarts. Those types of magics leave _signs_, Albus. After the fact, mayhap, but the signs are always there."

"These things never start large," Albus said mildly.

"But they always leave signs," Flitwick said stubbornly. "Signs that are completely lacking.

"I don't know why you are obsessed with this girl the way you are. With what she could become, yes. Knowing even half of what I do about the Thornes only a fool wouldn't be…extremely worried.

"But we have a responsibility to who are students are now, not who they might become. If you had known the kind of monster Riddle was going to grow into, or Black, or any one of a dozen other names, would you have arranged some accident in potions? Or perhaps slipped some poison into their pumpkin juice? Something that would take several years to work and would be utterly unable to trace or stop?"

Albus favored Flitwick with a brief smile. "As it happens, Hogwarts agrees with you. No, Filius, there will be no more…obsessing about Ms. Thorne. If the best happens she becomes a recluse, the Thornes only very rarely leave their estate once one has become Mistress of Thornes. If worst…we will deal with it if it happens, or someone else will. I had only hoped to avoid Harry ever having to be in a position to kill a friend…but that wasn't my choice to make…was it?"

Filius cocked his head to one side. "So, Albus, now what?"

"A duel is a serious business," Albus said thoughtfully. "There are rules to…limit and direct the danger. Between two people instead of whole families, a medi-witch or healer, seconds to make sure all the little rituals are followed."

"Yes, your point?" Filius asked.

"How likely is it that Ms. Thorne and Mr. Malfoy can reconcile?"

"There's always a chance," Filius said, but he looked away first. "Effectively none."

"And there will be no talk of 'first blood'," Albus said.

"It goes against the point," Filius said.

"But what if, and this is speculation mind," Albus said. "What if she is not sure enough of her ability?"

Filius frowned. "I'm not sure if I follow, Albus. She has power to spare, all of Thorne behind her I should think. Even if she doesn't have the technical ability it should be more than enough."

"If she were trying to kill Mr. Malfoy you'd be right," Albus said. "But what if she is trying for a wound that is serious enough that Mr. Malfoy is unable to continue, but not so terrible that he would die from it? Wouldn't you, as Master of the Field, be obligated to end the duel and declare her the winner?"

"Yesss," Filius said slowly. "And you don't think she has the degree of control to inflict such a wound using magic?"

"It doesn't matter what _I_ think," Albus said mildly. "And keep in mind that Mr. Malfoy would be doing his best to at least stop her if not kill her, and her wand-based skills leave a great deal to be desired."

"So you're saying that when she sent in Misters Potter and Zabini she deliberately did _not_ choose magic because while she likely thought she could win with it, she did not think that she could win without killing Mr. Malfoy?"

"Essentially," Albus said. "She did choose Harry as a Second, and while Harry might intellectually be aware of how wizard duels end…"

"She also chose Blaise Zabini whose mother has actually _been_ in a full-out duel," Filius noted. "I was only a tournament duelist, Albus. The worst I ever had to deal with was demands for rematches."

He leaned forward in the little seat in Albus' office that was reserved for him. "But let us say for a moment that you are correct. That she _doesn't_ want Malfoy dead. What do you suggest we do about it?"

"We?" Albus asked mildly.

Filius snorted at him. "Do you think I'm so blind that I haven't noticed you leading the conversation ever since I told you what Ms. Blackthorn and Mr. Malfoy agreed to? You already have a solution to this…little problem. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

Albus smiled. "Well, Filius, since Will was chosen it occurred to me that _you_ get to choose how they are going to demonstrate that each has the superior strength of self. While a degree of danger is required, it occurred to me that Ms. Thorne may be relying on us to provide her with a way out short of killing Mr. Malfoy, and it occurred to me that if this is the case then perhaps we might consider how to go about providing her with it. And if we do _that_, then perhaps we should consider…"

\|/\|/\|/

_**February **_

"This ceiling is starting to become far too familiar," Harry murmured to himself.

"Awake at last, I see."

A wand-tip that seemed very large indeed was thrust into his face and wiggled about. Only after a few seconds was Harry able to shift his gaze enough to take in a white sort of cloud-shaped thing. The wand-tip was withdrawn and his glasses were thrust into a hand.

Harry put them on to find Madam Pomfrey, Mediwitch, hovering next to his bed.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that you didn't damage yourself too badly this time," Madam Pomfrey said.

Harry frowned. "I was on my broom…"

She nodded.

He thought for a moment. "The quidditch game. Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor." He scowled, "there was a big black bat in my way."

Madam Pomfrey, who was not known to have a sense of humor, especially where Quidditch and injured people were concerned, snorted.

"How badly was I hurt?"

"Not so badly I wasn't unable to put you back together," she said kindly, before glowering and adding, "this time. If you insist on continuing to play that reckless game you people call a sport I cannot be held liable for any injuries you sustain that are unrecoverable. There's a Wizengamot decision on that, just so that you're aware."

"Oh," Harry said.

She sniffed. "Right then, you can go on to breakfast, a _light_ breakfast. And if you hear any ringing in your ears or your nose starts running, you come right back."

"You think I could have a cold?" Harry asked.

"Of course not, if you had one of those I could heal it in a jiffy," she said. "But your skull might have sprung a leak. The last thing Argus needs if for you to be dripping CSF all over the halls."

Harry started to ask what 'CSF' was, but one look from the mediwitch decide that getting out while he had the opportunity was a better idea than sticking around and maybe being kept overnight for 'observation'.

\|/\|/\|/

Soon after the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor game Harry found himself with a drastically reduced amount of free time as the teachers piled on homework in anticipation of end of the year exams. The same was true of Tonks and Cedric as well, and the High Lords of Chaos ground almost to a halt, much to the disgust of Peeves.

Twice after the last meeting about the duel Blaise had contacted him about arranging another meeting, but something always managed to come up. The other boy was not reticent in letting his disgust show. Affairs of honor, as far as he was concerned, should be dealt with openly and in a reasonable time period, perhaps a few weeks at the absolute maximum, certainly no more than a month, and it had been nearly twice that. As far as Harry was concerned it was just as well as it gave Malfoy more time to think about things and hopefully apologize. Allie was more pragmatic. Until Flitwick had a method of her and Malfoy's testing their wills against one another there wasn't really anything they could do.

Without any other major pranks planned, Ernie, Justin and the Patil twins had snuck out one night and used levitation charms to switch around as many of the portraits and paintings throughout the school as they could. Since Hogwarts was effectively unmapable, frames and the backgrounds in paintings—if not portraits in those paintings since they were, of course, free to move around—were one of the primary ways that people navigated. Overnight it seemed as though everyone was back in the first days of their first year.

Filch spent the rest of the day moving them all back.

In the end it was Tonks who broke first. "Look," she said one Saturday morning as they sat in the Tower's library. Through the windows they could see the thick snow-storm that had enveloped Hogwarts. "I joined this thing to have fun. Now, I don't much care what we do, but I for one have had enough with books for a while." She had crossed her arms and glared at them, shocking the first years into silence, though Harry noted that Cedric was distracted.

"Furniture for the circular room?" Padma suggested half-heartedly after a long moment.

That she was the one to make the first suggestion was a good sign, Harry thought, but he wondered how much of it came from the apathy on the parts of others.

"Might as well," Justin said. "I have something to help with that, anyway."

"Oh?" Cedric asked.

"Meet downstairs, I'll levitate it up," Justin said, heaving himself out of the chair he'd been sitting in and heading for the stairs.

Harry looked at Ernie who shrugged in reply.

Without any better ideas the rest of the High Lords followed Justin down to the large circular room. Justin went down to one of the lower levels, and returned levitating a large steamer trunk before them.

"My parents insisted on getting me a new trunk," he said, setting it down. There were five brass keyholes in the front. "I, uh, think they got carried away and bought the most impressively magical one they could find or something." He produced a key ring and stuck a brass key in the last keyhole and threw the lid open.

The inside was apparently _much_ larger on the inside than it was the outside because Justin stuck his wand, followed by his whole arm and head, into the trunk. A faint '_Wingardium Leviosa!_' was heard to echo from inside the trunk, then Justin reappeared followed by a levitating chair.

It was tall, mostly framing made of lightly-colored wood. Tough fabric was stretched across the frame to make a seat, and another stretched piece made a backing.

"Movie Director chairs?" Tonks asked.

"Movie?" Ernie asked.

Cedric shrugged and turned to the half-bloods and muggleborn.

"A movie is sort of like to the theater what the wireless is to a Wyrd Sisters' concert," Tonks said as Harry examined the chair.

The fabric was purple. A splotch of High Lords of Chaos tie-dye with _HLC_ written in pink, decorated the inside of the backrest. On the back, where Harry expected to see 'Director' or 'Star' or maybe the name of a teacher, was written 'Grand High Poobah'.

"I had them custom-made," Justin said. "That one is Dumbledore's. I figured we could leave them a note bragging about our irreversible transfiguration or something. There are also a couple of couches. I figured we could snag one from each of the Common Rooms as well. They just need their colors changed."

\|/\|/\|/

Severus Snape grinned.

This was quite different from his usual sneer, and the slight, unpleasant smirks he would sometimes sport just before his cold, precise tones began to flense the flesh from the bones of some poor unfortunate soul who had just managed to perform some spectacularly incompetent act.

No, this was a grin bordering on the full-fledged Smile of Unholy Glee.

He stared down at the parchment before him and he could almost hear the shattering dreams of a fifth year who was going to find herself with less than the 'O' O.W.L. that was required to get into his N.E.W.T-level potions class.

Carefully he unstoppered the little crystal pot of red ink that sat next to him on the table of the Staff Lounge. Its label bore, in a twisting script, the legend 'Ye Olde Red Inke of Doom and Despaire'. With meticulous movements Severus took up his goose-feather quill and charged it with ink from the pot.

Then, having contemplated his first withering remark, he brought the quill towards the parchment.

_SLAM!_

Severus' near-smile died instantly as he jerked the quill away from the parchment. Too late. A single drop of red ink had fallen from the quill and now soaked into the parchment like a drop of spilled blood.

He carefully set aside the quill before glowering at the person who had intruded upon his nearly-perfect moment.

"Oh, Severus," Pomona said, "Are you the only one here? Have you seen my new _Pueraria assassinar_?"

Severus looked with distaste at the waving fronds issuing from the pot the Herbology Professor was carrying. The Assassin Vine was native to the tropical jungles of Asia and thankfully did not adapt nearly as readily as its near-cousin the kudzu. The kudzu had been one of the rare magical plants that had made it into the muggle world before wizards could successfully contain it. But where the kudzu was remarkably hardy and able to easily adapt to a variety of conditions, the assassin vine required a certain level of ambient magic to grow. When it did find suitable growing conditions it did so rapidly. Partially this was because, like its cousin, it was a magical plant. Most of its rapid growth, however, was due to its self-fertilizing nature. Young plants were known to kill rabbits, while mature examples of the species had been known to kill humans who mistook it for its less lethal relative.

"I thought we had all agreed, Pomona, that the staff lounge was not the place for plants," He said coldly.

"Oh, Severus," she laughed. "Don't be such a spoil-sport. Isn't that right?" she asked, turning the the plant and tickling one vine with a finger. The small shoot wrapped around the proffered digit and tried to strangle it. "Severus shouldn't be such a spoil-sport?" she cooed, "_Blue skies, smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies do I see_…"

Severus angrily jammed the stopper back in the pot of ink and gathered the rolls of parchment, fully aware that no one would get any work done when Pomona Sprout was in one of her moods. He quickly left, angrily slamming the door shut behind him.

"_Sunshine on my shoulders makes me haaapy. Sunshine in my eyes makes me crryyy…_"

Pomona continued to sing for a minute, then someone knocked at the door twice, a pause, and then once more.

"About time," she muttered, her hair turning pink as she jerked her finger out of the grasp of the plant which she set on the table. She reached into her pocket and came out with a handful of small twigs connecting scraps of bright cloth. "Let's see," she said, peering closely at one. "Wee cute beasties' is Kettleburn, and he sits…over there."

\|/\|/\|/

"What is _this_," Severus Snape said with considerable distaste. "Where is my chair?" he demanded. That _all_ of the chairs in the staff lounge had been replaced was hardly of any great importance. But as far as _his_ chair was concerned…

"I have to admit, the view will take some getting used to," Filius said cheerfully, "but on the whole I think I will come to like it."

_He would_, Severus thought, glaring balefully at the diminutive Charms professor who no longer had to sit on top of a pile of books on his chair.

Severus took another glance at the chairs, noting that each had something written on its back. Fully half faced away from him, of course, but Sinistra's _Starlight Star-bright_, written in something sparkling on a midnight blue background was certainly appropriate. The sight of Quirrell shivering on a chair that featured a green smiley face with fangs and horns almost made him smirk… "One equals Two? What errant nonsense is that, Vector?"

"It is the solution to an arithmancy proof that demonstrates the inherent illogic in the universe," the Arithmancy Professor replied. She gestured to a wall, "if we take 'a' to equal 'b' to equal 'one'," she said, "then multiple 'a' equals 'b' by 'a' on both sides, before subtracting 'b²' from both sides …"

Severus frowned, but used his wand to quickly write on the wall.

a = b = 1

a² = ab

a² - b² = ab - b²

"Very nice," Vector said. "Then if we factor the results, and divide each side by 'a' minus 'b'." Severus stared at this, and Vector raised her own wand to finish the proof.

(a + b)(a – b) = b(a – b)

a + b = b

1 + 1 = 1

2 = 1

Severus frowned at this. He knew a fair amount of arithmancy, it was necessary for calculating the best times to brew certain potions, but this was…

After a minute or so he angrily erased the glowing letters and numbers with a sharp slashing motion and turned to where _his_ chair should be.

"Some day I am going to have proof that Potter did this," he seethed. "And when that day comes…" he lapsed into silence, the only sign of the fury he felt were his fingers slowly curling into fists.

Thunder echoed from outside as a storm began to beat against the walls and fortifications of the ancient castle.

\|/\|/\|/

It was as though Hogwarts itself knew what was happening and did not approve, Harry thought as he stood on the Astronomy Tower. Black clouds slowly swirled overhead and thunder crackled ominously. Wind whipped up little flurries of snow and sent their robes to snapping.

He hadn't thought Dumbledore would allow the duel, that he'd find a way to stop it. Allie had had much the same thought for Dumbledore's agreement had taken her completely by surprise. Nor had the duel been kept quiet. The Tower hadn't been their first choice, but it was one of the few areas that was not only large enough for the duel, but was also small enough not to have spectators.

In this the storm helped. While there were no towers that looked down on the Astronomy Tower (except the Headmaster's Office if you happened to look through its windows, or, oddly, the Tower of Turmoil except when you looked at it from the outside), Harry was sure that the sky would have been crowded with brooms if a flight advisory warning hadn't been issued by Madam Hooch and all the brooms grounded.

"I can't believe we're really going through with this," Allie muttered. "Damn it, why doesn't Malfoy just concede?"

"The same reason you won't," Zabini said. "His father, or at least his father's pride, won't stand for it. Mother said his father couldn't have picked a more suiting name for Draco's father."

"And just what could Malfoy's father do that he won't back down?" Harry asked.

"Draco respects his father, Potter," Zabini said, suddenly stern. "To Draco he's the epitome of what a wizard should be. Genteel, powerful…"

The trapdoor of the roof of the Astronomy Tower opened and Madam Pomfrey emerged. She closed the door, then went to stand next to the crenellated wall.

Professor Flitwick gestured for them to join him at the center of the tower.

"Sir," he said to Malfoy before turning to Allie, "Madam. It is my first and foremost duty to urge a peaceful resolution of your differences, even at this late date. I ask you both now: can you not resolve your quarrel?"

Harry glanced at Allie, but her face was an impassive mask. He turned to Malfoy just in time to see the other boy look away from Flitwick and tap his foot as though bored with the whole thing.

"I see," Flitwick said. "Very well."

He opened a chest sitting on the ground, then, pointing a stubby wand-shaped object at it, a crystalline sphere slowly rose to chest-height. It was clear, clearer than glass, but oddly faceted. Inside the sphere was a roil of magenta energy, now crackling like caged lightning, now a seething boil of storm clouds, now an unquenchable fire…

Harry looked away from it as Flitwick set down the little stick and drew forth two more.

"This crystal sphere is made from crystals grown on a lattice of spider-spun hopes, dreams, and angel hairs," Flitwick said. "Incredibly fragile stuff," he continued, ever the teacher. "It shatters if the least magic is used on it or if it comes into contact with something solid, but for all of its external fragility, it can hold within it some of the most powerful and arcane of magiks. This is very useful for those studying those magicks, but occasionally they can be put to other uses. What you see here is Promethean Fire. A single spot of primordial fire."

He bent next to the chest and opened another chest, this one long and wide, but low, this he lifted and present to the duelists. There were a dozen of the stubby wand-shaped objects resting on cloth inside the chest. "These were crafted from stone quarried in the heart of the fey realms. You will each channel your will through these devices and attempt to exert your influence upon the sphere which you will direct to your opponent."

Allie picked one up and examined it.

"Hey," Malfoy said. "These are all cracked and chipped."

"They are centuries-old devices, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said sternly. "No one has crossed to the fey-realms and returned in over six hundred years. I assure you, the condition of your fey-stone wand will have no affect on your ability to channel your will through it. The least fragment of one of these would suffice. Wands are used because wizards and witches are accustomed to using devices shaped as such, and because such tiny fragments are less than ideal to hold."

Malfoy and Allie each choose one of the stone wands, then retreated to their places on opposite side of the Astronomy Tower. Harry and Zabini took their positions, standing well to either side of Allie, and staring across the Tower, over the globe of Promethean Fire, to Crabbe and Goyle respectively.

Harry felt acutely uncomfortable. If the rules of the duel were breached, then he and Zabini were supposed to fight Goyle and Crabbe. Malfoy and Allie, however, had agreed that since the test of the duel was a battle of will, all the participants (including the Seconds, but not the Master or Physician) should be wand-less. For the first time in more than half a year he wasn't wearing the phoenix amulet and it left him feeling…undressed.

He turned to look at where Flitwick was now standing, between the two principals, but well back. Madam Pomfrey was standing near the wall, not looking at all pleased. The presence of a Physician (strangely the post was not called Healer, Medi-Witch, or Witch-Doctor, which Zabini said were the common terms though Witch-Doctors were rare in Britain) was technically required, but that most duelists forwent. Allie, he knew, had made Pomfrey's presence a sticking point even before Flitwick had mandated her presence, and Malfoy, strangely, didn't seem inclined to object.

"When I send up sparks, you may begin," Flitwick said formally.

Harry glanced back at Allie who was standing straight-on, then across the tower at Malfoy. The blond Slytherin was standing sideways, with his right-side leading and the fey-stone wand held lightly in his right hand.

Bright gold and silver sparks lit the night. Malfoy's arm started up, but Allie twisted her hand like Harry had seen cowboys do on the telly once, pointing the fey-stone wand from her hip. The sphere bobbled and started towards Malfoy before his wand was fully up. He got it up fast, but Allie was just as quick and the sphere continued to slide towards Malfoy.

"Come on," Harry murmured before firmly clamping his mouth shut. Zabini had warned him that it was against protocol for Seconds to say anything during the duel. They were here to see that honor was served and that both sides accorded themselves with honor, not to be cheerleaders. Worse, however, was the realization that those two half-strangled words had, while encouraging Allie, also cheered for a fellow student's injury or even death. That wasn't something to cheer over, not even if it was Malfoy.

Lightning cracked nearby and the sphere of eldritch flames slowed to a stop. A peel of thunder was so close and so loud that Harry could feel the tower shake beneath him. The wind was freezing cold, though he oddly couldn't feel it, and every moment that passed it seemed as though the heavens were getting ready to open up on them but the ran never came.

There sphere started to creep back towards Allie.

Harry jerked his attention from the sphere as Crabbe let out a whoop as the device passed over the box. Flitwick sent the other boy a look of disgust, but didn't say anything. Malfoy had taken up Allie's pose and had both hands on the fey-stone wand. Harry turned to Allie who was still in her stance , legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, fey-stone wand held before her in a loose grip while her other hand was curled at her side.

Her expression was intent and strangely serene, and Harry realized that was her. How she really was. Beneath the uncomfortable interactions with most of their year-mates, beneath the difficulties with charms and transfiguration and brilliance in potions, beneath the almost-paranoid fear of her own magic. This was Allie, Slytherin, Witch, and Heir to the Thorne family, at her best. The point at which it was just her and magic and nothing else mattered.

In that moment he knew, _knew_ just how outclassed Malfoy was. He even understood _why_. Allie had told him on the first day. She had a Talent, but had started with neither the skill nor control to keep it from hurting anyone; those had taken years of study to develop. She had power to spare so she would never _not_ be powerful enough to use it, and it wasn't as though she could have stopped believing in a part of herself any more than Harry could have stopped believing in his left arm or his spleen. That had left her with only her sheer force of will while growing up in a house with the Patil sisters.

And her stubborn will had been enough for _years_. Until, with the rapid growth of her magic that happened around young wizards' and witches' tenth year of life, some of whatever she was had slipped through and frightened Mr. Patil so badly that she had had to leave.

The wind whipping her robes around her made it seem like magic was leaking through her very pores as the sphere came to a stop before her, casting her face aglow with ruddy light. Then it slowly began to slip away.

There was a sharp _crack_ from somewhere close by. It wasn't thunder as there had been no flash of lightning. Besides, this was sharper, sudden, without the rolling sound that thunder always seemed to have.

The orb of magical fire slowly gained speed as it crossed the tower. The sky had grown steadily darker and the Promethean Fire's magenta glow leant a surreal hue to the tower. Malfoy looked as though he were struggling with his fey-stone, struggles that grew desperate as the sphere once more crossed the two chests that marked the half-way point between the two duelists.

Harry watched the sphere get closer to Malfoy. As it moved it seemed to dip slightly, as though Allie didn't intend to strike Malfoy squarely with it. He looked at her, but her expression offered no clues. Surely it would be faster if it struck the other boy in the chest. Allie had never seemed the kind to be purposefully cruel, but it continued to dip, now waist-high.

The orb came to a sudden stop.

By the time it had reached half-way between the chests and Malfoy the sphere had been moving quite quickly. But, a third of the way from Malfoy, the sphere just froze in place.

Allie made a sound, but when Harry looked her expression was more puzzled then stressed.

After what seemed like a long time but couldn't have been more than a handful of seconds, the sphere began to move again. Slowly, bobbing and weaving as though controlled by someone who was drunk, it began to move once more towards Allie.

Malfoy seemed taken aback by this. He still gripped his fey-stone tightly, but he was looking at it as though it had a mind of its own. Allie, for the first time, betrayed a hint of tension with a slight tremor in her arm and an equally slight crease on her forehead.

Goyle and Crabbe were openly cheering, which Flitwick very clearly did _not_ approve of, and Harry wondered how the diminutive charms instructor was going to deal with them. Zabini, on the other hand, looked worried.

Malfoy's fey-stone exploded in his hands.

Flitwick roared a warning but it was snatched away in a sudden gust of wind.

Allie had started to drop her arm as soon as Malfoy had cried out and the sphere had practically leapt at her before she got it back up. It was her turn to struggle now as the sphere forced itself closer to her.

Flitwick had his wand out, but whatever spell he cast was snatched away.

Malfoy had sunk to his knees, his hands dark with what Harry suspected to be blood.

Allie grunted, and the sphere was forced away from her, nearly all the way back to the chests.

She was breathing heavily, but managed to keep it there, slowly bobbing and weaving in mid air as Flitwick raced across the tower to the smaller chest. He tore it open and nearly had his head taken off as the sphere suddenly lurched to the side, directly for Harry.

"Allie!" Harry cried, breaking his silence at last. It was all he could think to do. He didn't have his wand. He didn't have the amulet. He moved away from her but the sphere tracked his movements. It wasn't moving very quickly, but it was moving inexorably despite Allie's best efforts.

Flitwick cried out but at what Harry couldn't see.

Allie's fey-stone wand shattered. She turned and ran towards him, but the sphere of Promethean Fire was no longer subject to her influence and was just as fast.

"_NOW!_" Zabini shouted over the wind.

Harry noted, almost absently, Allie throwing a hand behind her. Something sparkled in the terrible gleam of the magic fire. Then she slammed into him.

He was aware of falling…and then his head slammed into something solid.

\|/\|/\|/

"Well done," The Master said as Quirinus set down the hammer.

Quirinus allowed himself a contented smile. Creating a thaumaturgic ritual that would allow him to destroy fey-stone, especially fey-stone that _old_—like many magic things, the older and more use fey-stone had seen the more powerful it became—had been no small task. In fact, it had taken nearly his every waking moment, aside from the bare necessities such as eating and teaching classes, since he had found out how the duel was going to be carried out. Even then, and with The Master's help, it had proved nearly impossible to carry out.

But he had _succeeded_. With good luck Potter was dead, but even The Master recognized that this was unlikely. No, the magical world, at least in Europe, had been forced to learn to deal with fire centuries ago. The methods of healing burns, even extreme ones, were well-known and in advance of many other areas of Healing. And Hogwarts, of course, would not settle for less than the very best of staff. This extended not just to the Professors, but to the Archivist and Healer as well.

Most others thought of Madam Pomfrey as a Medi-Witch, and indeed the Hogwarts Staffing Charter as amended in 1674 required a Medi-Witch on the staff. What many did not know but that Quirinus did —if only because The Master knew—was that _Medi-Witch_ Poppy Pomfrey would revert to _Senior Master Healer_ Poppy Pomfrey (Masters in Spell Damage and Artifact Accidents, Minors in Poisonings and Creature-Induced Injuries, current Holder of the Golden Caduceus, Winner of the P. S. Beagle Award for her work in reversing canine-based polymorphus, &etc.) the moment she left Hogwarts.

But he only allowed himself to savor his success for a short while. The main task, the one that The Master needed accomplished most of all, was still to be completed. The opportunity had been too good to miss, but he and The Master both knew it would arouse further suspicion. He would need to be extra vigilant and extra careful. Still, if the dragon worked properly his next chance at the Stone would be soon. If he missed then, he might have one more chance, but certainly no more. The Old Fool seemed intent on keeping the Stone inside Hogwarts, but even _he_ would tolerate continued attempts to get it for only so long…


	19. Chapter 19: Never Tickle a Sleeping Drag

**Chapter 19: Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon**

"It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him."  
-J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Hobbit_-

\|/\|/\|/

Albus folded his hands in his sleeves, every inch the image of a grim archmage, as he looked down at the flagstones of the Astronomy Tower. "I assume, Filius, that in asking me up here you have discovered how the duel went awry?"

"It didn't go awry," the former world-class duelist said, equally grim. "It was deliberately sabotaged, or, to be more accurate, hijacked. Look here," he said, gesturing towards the center of the tower. A flick of his wand sent a cascade of glowing magenta light out from the center of the tower.

"A magic circle," Albus murmured, "a very involved one." He knelt by some symbols. "Some form of ritual magic?"

"Perhaps, but only to appropriately channel the quantities of magic needed," Filius gestured to thirteen points of light, brighter than the rest, that were clustered closely together in a grouping that was longer than it was wide. "All of the fey-stones were destroyed, either inside their case or in the hands of one of the duelists."

"I thought Ms. Thorne threw hers and was able to intercept the sphere short of striking her and Harry?" Albus asked.

"She threw a handful of fey-stone dust and chips," Filius said. "But if you look at this circle, do you see how—"

"Yes, this must represent the circle as it was laid out, including the markers for where the chips of fey-stone he or she must have gathered would have been destroyed," Albus said. "Thaumaturgy. This would not have been a minor undertaking, Filius. True it is not widely studied anymore, at least not in Britain, but this…"

He frowned and stroked his beard. "We only settled on the use of Promethean Fire a week before the duel. I doubt even I could have crafted a thaumaturgic ritual as fast, not one capable of channeling the amount of power needed to destroy fey-stone, disguise it from inside the very halls of Hogwarts, _and_ keep anyone else from noticing until after the fact."

"And gotten a piece of fey-stone in advance of the duel?" Filius asked. "The sphere was clearly under the control of someone after the available fey-stones were destroyed. That same someone likely set up the magic-sink that drained away my attempts to destroy the sphere. The field was _prepared_, Albus, and I never detected it."

"There are not so many places a duel could have been held once I agreed to allow it on Hogwarts grounds," Albus sighed. "And yes, Filius, I know you checked the field before the duel. But you checked for the kinds of spells a student would have used."

"Do give me a little credit, Albus," Filius said severely. "I am well aware that both Mr. Malfoy, Lucius I mean, and Ms. Thorne would have their own interests in the outcome. I assure you, I checked for well more than mere first-year spells, and I found absolutely _nothing_ to indicate any tampering. Both Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Blackthorn would be well within their rights to challenge me for such a failing.

"Not that they will," he added parenthetically, "I rather believe that both are quite relieved that the whole things is over."

Albus nodded thoughtfully. "I only have two questions more. Did Ms. Thorne have another will-based focus? And if she did not, could she have sufficient strength of will to have bent the sphere to her purposes without one."

"Ms. Blackthorn you mean? No," Filius said flatly. "The first I checked as a matter of course. As to the second…this sphere was specifically designed as a dueling instrument and tuned to fey-stone conductors, Albus. I had Severus test it without and he could not get it to so much as bob in the air."

"And so her plans, I suspect, for Harry are more long term," Albus said softly.

"I highly doubt she is plotting against—"

Albus shook his head, "I didn't say I thought she was plotting against him."

"But you _do_ think that."

Albus ignored the charms professor's statement. "I merely observed that her plans have not yet come to fruition. This attack was performed by someone or some-_ones_ not on the Tower, but who knew about the duel. Even the duelists didn't know the specific method you had chosen until they reached the field."

The twinkle in his eyes faded. "The information about the timing and method was limited to the staff and Board of Governors," he said grimly. "One of them, or someone they told, did this." His blue eyes turned very cold indeed as he gathered his power around him. "When I find this…person, I would be well inclined to ask for your services, Filius, did I not think that under the circumstances you would decline."

He turned to leave.

"Albus?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts paused and looked back.

"When you first hired me it was on the condition that I give up dueling," Filius said. "It occurs to me, however, that the dueling circuit and the regularly scheduled tournaments are not the same thing as an honor-duel."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry, for one, was quite relieved to not be a resident of the Hospital Wing for once. He had woken with a pounding headache and the knob the size of an egg on the back of his head, but he had woken before Madam Pomfrey—whoever usually did the task—had gotten him changed into a Hospital Wing gown. That apparently meant he was well enough not to need to stay for 'overnight observation' as far as the resident medi-witch was concerned.

She had given him some teal-colored goop that had little sparkling things in it to smear on the light burns he had received and a vial of something that smelled like swamp gas and tasted worse. To be fair, the goop was effective at healing his burns, though its tingling took a lot of getting used to, and the potion did wonders for his headache.

Allie, however, was still in the Hospital Wing after nearly a week. She lay on her stomach and the bedsheets were levitated to keep from coming into contact with her burned back and legs. She did have an odd, donut-shaped pillow that looked down on a mirror, a second mirror was mounted on a moveable stand over her bed that she could adjust. By looking down at the mirror below her she was able to look out through the mirror above her. Harry found having to look up instead of down at his injured friend odd to say the least.

"You should try it from my perspective," Allie growled irritably.

"Sorry," Harry said.

"And here I thought you'd finally gotten over apologizing for every little thing," his friend muttered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Allie, about the duel—thank you."

"For what?" she asked.

"For jumping in front of the fire," Harry said.

"Why wouldn't I have?" she asked. "I had something that could disrupt the sphere, albeit at very short range, and it wasn't like it was going to kill me after all."

"What?" Harry asked. "I thought the whole point of the Promethean Fire was that—"

"Oh it would have been lethal enough if it hit me in the head or upper chest," Allie said. "It was pretty obvious you didn't know about that though, did you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Why would it have only been lethal there? I mean, the stomach and stuff is vulnerable too…right?"

"Sure, but it doesn't kill as fast," Allie said. "Europe went nuts a couple centuries back. How to heal fire-based injuries is well in advance of other healing magics."

"Oh, you mean because of the witch burnings?" Harry asked.

Allie laughed, but it vanished into a choking-wheezing sound. "I have no idea how that rumor started. The mundanes were burning _heretics_, not witches. Oh, a couple of real witches got caught up, but even those that went to the stake usually got away just fine. Mostly the mundanes _hung_ witches and wizards, something that worked all too well. For whatever reason, however, most of the magical world thought the mundanes were burning them so there was a great interest in anti-fire protection spells and burn treatments. Against the minute quantity of Promethean Fire Flitwick brought _and_ the presence of a certain medi-witch, Malfoy's and my chances of actually succeeding in killing one or the other of us were pretty remote."

"But I didn't know that," Harry said slowly, "so I didn't know how to…survive getting burned. You still didn't need to jump in front of me," he added stubbornly. "What if you'd been wrong?"

"Then ol' grannie would be ecstatic and Dumbles would be happy," Allie muttered. "The Great Hall would be trimmed in black, and I'd try to keep from laughing as Dumbledore tried to eulogize me."

Harry snorted despite himself.

"Personally, I think I'm going to blame Parvati," Allie continued thoughtfully. "All of those high romances that she had me read. I thought I'd take a stab at the hero-gig. You know, the whole 'someone-else, somewhere-else being miserable when not in grave danger-slash-saving-people-thing.'"

"What's it like?" Harry asked.

"I think I'll stick with my day job," Allie said. "Besides, I don't have the name for it. Heroes need good names, you know, something out of legends like 'Percival' or 'Roland', or that are shortened in someway unusual like 'Xander' or 'Buffy', or speak of a defining characteristic like 'Honor'."

The door of the Hospital Wing opened and Harry turned as Draco Malfoy walked in.

"Potter," he said, walking over.

"Malfoy," Harry replied in much the same tone.

"Blackthorn," Malfoy continued to Allie.

"Malfoy," Allie replied. "Harry," she said.

"Allie." Harry said with a grin. "Malfoy."

Malfoy glared at him, then turned away dismissively. "Blackthorn," he said, "I've come to inform you that despite the…irregularity at our duel I consider the matter suitably dealt with."

"Will your father consider the matter at an end?" Allie asked.

Harry moved a hand towards his wand as Malfoy stiffened, but Allie went on before the blond boy drew his wand. "I only ask because I know the Mistress of Thornes will _not_ be satisfied with an interrupted duel should she find out about it."

"_I_ am satisfied," Malfoy said tersely. "An exchange was made. Both parties were wounded and declare honor was satisfied. No more about it needs to be spoken."

"We have an accord then," Allie said.

Malfoy jerked his head once in what might have been a nod, then spun on his heels and left.

\|/\|/\|/

With the duel over and no Quidditch games until early May the following days, and then weeks, began to blur together. Harry and his friends saw no proof that Snape—or whoever was after the Stone and/or trying to kill Harry—had come any closer to achieving his (her/their) goal(s). The High Lords of Chaos pulled a few more pranks, but nothing as elaborate as their first one or even the now-regularly scheduled Quidditch prank.

Apparently to get them ready for the end of term crunch period, the Professors stepped up the amount of material they were covering and the amount of out-of-class work that they were assigning. At the same time Thrace stepped up the pace of Quidditch practices as the May game was Hufflepuff against Slytherin. Tonks had passed along Allie's off-hand comment, however, and the practices shifted slightly to give the Chasers more time to practice their foul-throws.

The Weasley twins managed to slip something into the pumpkin juice one day in mid-march, and about half the people in Hufflepuff had their robes change into badger fur. Tonks had immediately started to shed, and only a quickly conjured beach towel had kept a very embarrassing scene from becoming extremely embarrassing. McGonagall had dragged the twins off by their ears to spend a detention with Filch, but not before Tonks swore vengeance on their entire house. The next several days were tense, but then the incident seemed forgotten by the collective consciousness of the school.

It really should not have, for less than two weeks later was the Twins' birthday.

Harry came down to breakfast that morning considerably wary. Tonks had spent nearly the entire weekend bursting out in giggles, often accompanied by wildly fluctuating hair color. But as he looked around no one seemed to be sprouting horns or asses ears or coats of fur or anything else odd. The food seemed to all be perfectly normal and not charmed to smell or taste as something other than what it was supposed to smell or taste like. The morning flock of owls came in right on time, and while some students had to dodge a particularly low-flying owl, none had to dodge for other reasons.

He calmly fed Hedwig a piece of bacon as he looked around the hall. The others in Hufflepuff were chatting, as normal. More than half the Ravenclaws had their heads in books, as normal. The Slytherins were talking in low voices, or reading the Dailey Prophet, or any of the other things they commonly did at breakfast, as normal. He looked over at Gryffindor, all of the Weasleys seemed to be sitting together. That wasn't normal, but it wasn't exactly odd either.

Harry started to turn away, but he paused and looked more closely at Gryffindor. So, he thought, Tonks turned all of their hair Weasley-red, except…it all seemed to be the same style as well.

"Harry, Harry you have to help us."

Harry turned at the unfamiliar voice to find Ron's brothers Fred and George hurrying over. "You need _me_ to help you?" he asked, taken aback. Fred and George were only third-years but that was a load of difference in how much magic they had been taught. Furthermore, Fred and George were notorious for the ingenuity of their pranks. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"Well," the other one said, "if you or your friends can figure out a way to transform us back into ourselves that would do quite nicely."

"You…er…transformed into each other?" Harry asked.

"No!" snapped the first. "I'm Parvati!"

"And _I_ am Hermione," said the second.

"You're fruity," Ernie said, "and she's nutty," he added.

"Shut up, MacMillan," seethed the first one.

"Self-transfiguration isn't covered until seventh year," Harry pointed out.

"You think we did this to _ourselves_?" snarled Twin #1.

"They're _your_ friends, get them to undo this!" said Twin #2.

"Weasleys," a greasy voice said behind them.

Even sitting on the bench at the Hufflepuff table, Harry jumped. He turned to find the Potions Professor looming over them.

"I am sure that your…vitally important conversation is no doubt fascinating," he said, "but now is neither the time nor place from it."

"But, Professor—"

"Five points for cheek, Mr. Weasley," Snape told Twin #2. "The proper place for meals is with…your…house…" his words drifted off as he took in the sight of Gryffindor house.

He wasn't the only one. Conversation in the hall had come to a stop.

"Weasleys," he hissed the word in a way that made Harry think of a dog vomiting something that it had found in the back of a week-old dumpster. "You have really out done yourselves this time," he seethed, "indeed you have. And it is only fitting, I believe, that this…ingenuity be properly awarded."

He glanced at Professor McGonagall.

As though taking their cue from him, Harry and the rest of the inhabitants of the Great Hall turned and looked at her.

"What do you propose, Severus?" she asked, giving the Gryffindor table as a whole a very disappointing look.

"Weasleys," Snape said, "five points from Gryffindor for the disruption this will no doubt cause in my classroom." His face had twisted into the sort of expression that would warp minds and break psyches, but that the truly deranged would instantly recognize as gleeful as he added a single word.

"Each."

A pall of perfect silence filled the Great Hall as Gryffindor's lead in the House Points disappeared with the rattle of rubies returning to their holder on the House Point scale.

"If any other Professors wish to discipline you for disruptions that is, of course, their prerogative," he continued, his expression clearly hoping that someone would do just that. "In addition you will…_each_ of you Fred or George Weasleys, serve two detentions with me for potentially putting other students at risk. I shall make up a schedule. It will arrive with tomorrow's owls."

"But you can't _do_ that!" someone shouted.

"Would you rather it was ten points each and three detentions?" Snape asked.

"Severus," Professor McGonagall said. "While I can well understand the need to curb disruptions in the classroom, it is unfair to punish those who are not at fault."

Snape frowned at her, then glared at the table. "Those of you who have successfully resumed your normal visage before your next class with me shall receive seven points. Two points for successfully rising above such a limiting deformity, the rest to balance the points taken. Knock on the door of my office and wait to be admitted. Do _not_ disrupt me during classroom time or you will regret it."

An indescribable buzz filled the Hufflepuff dorms in the weeks following the April Fool's prank on the twins. Gryffindor only had two classes with Snape on Mondays, and the spell had expired before breakfast on Tuesday, but the Potion Master had held firm on students needing to see him before class and the First Year Gryffindors hadn't thought he would.

In the end Gryffindor had lost only fifty points after adding the points from the students who had managed to see him on time and Dumbledore stepping in to round the results. The detentions, however, one for endangering other students by using an unknown potion and/or spell and the second for endangering students by impeding easy identification, he had let stand. The worst, that Snape would have insisted that he assigned two detentions to every person who appeared to be Fred Weasley and another two everyone who appeared to be George (effectively four), didn't happen. Still, as assigned that would have been more than enough to keep them from Quidditch practice, maybe even enough to take them out of the season closer with Ravenclaw. But something had happened that night, because by Wednesday morning not only did the Weasleys have only four detentions each to serve, but Gryffindor had lost _another_ hundred points.

It was at this point that all four houses realized something. That with Gryffindor knocked to the bottom of the point-totals, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, which had been running a dead heat, were both positioned to over-take Slytherin. Slytherin, of course, realized that they only had to maintain their lead for three more months.

\|/\|/\|/

"It was Wood's idea," Parvati explained one afternoon as Harry revised his potions notes with her and Padma. "The point-loss, the first one, had ruined our lead and Gryffindor's reserve beaters just aren't that good. Even if we kept Ravenclaw from hammering us, the point totals wouldn't net us the Quidditch cup no matter how the Hufflepuff/Slytherin game goes. We wouldn't have made up enough points in the game to get us back into the lead, and unless you caught the snitch in about thirty seconds Slytherin was going to get enough points to make the lead impossible to overcome."

"And so taking a hundred-point loss was better?" Harry asked.

"In exchange for getting the Weasleys back for Quidditch?" Padma asked. "Yes," she nodded. "Despite their narrow loss to you Gryffindor is actually fairly well-placed for the Quidditch cup. Since points in the game factor into the house points, and the Quidditch cup alone is worth a hundred points to the house that gets it, losing their beaters would have taken them out of the running for both. It'll depend on point-spreads, of course, but if they can get within, say, a hundred or so points of Slytherin in the house-point total, they may still manage a come-from-behind victory and pick up both cups."

"How would we and Ravenclaw have to do to get the Quidditch cup?"

"_We_ can't," Padma said with a shrug, then made a bit of a sour face. "You caught the snitch while _my_ team was trying to save you and you saw the Slytherin game. You'd have to lose by three or four hundred points and we'd have to utterly trounce Gryffindor. For a Hufflepuff victory…it would depend on the point-spread."

Harry smiled at his friend. "You're back," he said. After months of reticence, Padma seemed to have finally gotten over her attack.

"I wasn't aware I had gone anyplace," Padma said lightly, which got a spurt of laughter from Parvati but didn't seem very funny to Harry. "At least I'm not waking up screaming anymore," she said after a while. "Still waking up, occasionally, but I'm not waking everyone else up."

"Maybe Madam Pom—"

She held up a hand and Harry stopped in mid-word.

"I've had enough with healers and potions," she said crossly. "I'm not having more than one nightmare a night, usually not even that many, and at least I can go back to sleep after a while which I _couldn't_ do at home," she looked at her sister who crossed her arms defiantly. Padma regarded her twin for a moment more before turning back to Harry. "What really worries me is that whoever did it is still here, but there's nothing I can do about that so can we please stop talking about it and get back to what we were working on? The teachers are starting to pile on the work they want us to do outside of class, exams are less than three months away, and I understand that _Granger_ has already started revising."

Harry started to acquiesce, but was distracted by Hagrid coming out of the stacks.

Now, seeing one of the Professors in the library was not an uncommon occurrence. Hogwarts was widely regarded as having one of the largest collections of magical books in the world. There were far more books than anyone, even with the lifespan of a wizard or witch, could ever hope to read. Still, possibly the only person who would have looked more out of place coming out of the stacks than Hagrid in his moleskin overcoat would have been the caretaker, Filch.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Harry," Hagrid said loudly as he stuffed one massive hand behind his back, "What're yeh doin' here?"

Harry gave Hagrid an odd look. "Potions revision," he said slowly, "what about you?"

"Oh, jus' lookin'," Hagrid said in a shifty voice that caught Padma' and Parvati's attention. "Potion revisions, eh?" he continued quickly. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicholas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh no, we figured that out _months_ ago," Parvati said sweetly. "We also know what he…_created_."

Hagrid looked around the library nervously.

"There were a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry said. "About what is guarding the…thing apart from Fluffy."

"_Shhh!_" Hagrid hissed. "Yeh should know better than ter talk abou' that in public, what's the matter with yeh?" He looked around sharply, then bent his head towards them. "Listen—come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anything, mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh—"

"See you later then," Harry said, watching Hagrid shuffle off.

"I wonder what he was hiding behind his back," Padma said after he was gone.

"Right," her sister said, "that's enough of _this_." She flipped up the cover of the textbook in front of her so that for a moment half the book hung open under its own weight. Gravity asserted a hold and pulled it closed the rest of the way, the book closing with a firm _whumpf_. "Time for something _fun_," she declared, heading for the stacks.

"Where are you going?" Padma asked.

"To see what section Hagrid was in," Parvati's voice echoed from where she had disappeared into the stacks. She was back in less than three minutes with a Hermione-sized collection of books.

Padma held up a hand, then turned to Harry and looked pointedly at the scroll of parchment he had just spent an hour on.

With a sigh Harry bent and inked in the last parts of the spell-diagram for the mouse-to-snuff-box transfiguration that McGonagall was going to use for practice exams. When he was done he slid it across the table to Padma who looked it over and nodded approvingly.

"Okay," she told her sister as she slid the parchment back to Harry. "_Now_ we can have fun."

Parvati rolled her eyes as she set the stack down at their table. "_Dragons_," she hissed. "Look at these. _Dragons of Great Britain and Ireland_. _Marvelous Dangerous Dragons_. _From Egg to Inferno, the Dragon Keeper's Guide_. _Dragonrider's Trilogy_…" she paused at this one, a large, brightly-colored paperback, and flipped it over to read the blurb on the back. "Hmm, I think I might want to read this one."

"This is not good," Padma said.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," Parvati said, setting her new reading material aside for now. "It isn't exactly a secret, he usually mentions it sooner or later…to anyone who'll listen."

"Speaking of, how _do_ you and Allie know him so well?" Harry asked. "I mean, we only just started this year…"

"You know how daddy is into house reclamation?" Parvati asked.

"I know that he fixes up wizarding houses for mundanes to live in, if that's what you mean," Harry said. "Allie and he are in business together, I think."

"It's more like Allie is a specialist he sometimes hires," Padma said, not looking up as she flipped through one of the dragon books. "Hagrid's the same way. He knows an awful lot about magical creatures, especially pests. Daddy calls him in when there's a flesh-eating slug infestation or ashwinders living in the coal bin, things like that."

"_Anyway_," Parvati cut in, "Hagrid's wanting a dragon is pretty well-known."

"So?" Harry asked.

"So it's illegal," Padma said, closing the book before finally putting away her own potion text and the parchment she'd been taking notes on. "The Warlocks' Convention of 1709 outlawed dragon breeding. You can't exactly hide one in a shack in the backyard. The largest species is bigger than an elephant, but even the smallest species grows to over fifteen feet. Besides which, dragons are _wild_ magic. It'd be easier to tame a hurricane or stop the stars in their tracks than to try and tame one."

"But there aren't wild dragons in _Britain_?" Harry asked.

"Sure there are," Parvati said. "The common welsh green and the hebridian black. If I remember right one of the old Scot magical clans deals with the hebridian black, but the Ministry of Magic has quite a job hushing up the welsh greens. Every so often one escapes from the reserve and goes off to burn Dublin or something and then the Ministry has to hush everything up and make the muggles forget all about it."

"Why Dublin?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't some place in England, or Wales for that matter, make more sense?"

"Because the muggles built a whole slew of castles on the English/Wales border a couple of centuries back," Padma said. "They got really efficient at killing dragons. Why else do you think the muggles have all those old stories about knights slaying dragons? The dragons remember, and even if _we_ aren't about to let the muggles kill any more of them the dragons aren't exactly inclined to forget that kind of thing. They aren't stupid enough to go where the dragon-killing people live. So they go to Ireland where there really isn't a whole lot that's worth burning other than Dublin."

\|/\|/\|/

When they reached Hagrid's little hut they were surprised not to see him puttering around outside. Usually he was visible from the castle, working on the odd bits of leather and wood that he used to keep the grounds in order, or tending to the chickens that kept Hogwarts in fresh eggs, or the massive vegetable patch where already the twisting vines of next Halloween's giant pumpkins were growing. Even odder than Hagrid not being outside, was that the curtains over the windows of his hut had been pulled tightly shut.

"You don't suppose Hagrid's been turned into a vampire, or developed an allergy to sunlight, do you?" Parvati asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Padma huffed. "I'm sure Hagrid has a good reason for his…atypical behavior," she continued, but even to Harry it sounded rather weak.

Parvati knocked on the door, and from somewhere inside Hagrid's voice called out, "Who goes there?"

"Good reason," Parvati muttered as Harry responded: "It's Harry!"

Hagrid cracked the door open and examined the three friends before opening it just wide enough for them to slip inside before slamming it shut.

Inside the hut it was stifling hot. Summer had come early to Hogwarts and it was very warm outside. Despite that, however, Hagrid had a great blazing fire laid in the grate. Harry noticed that a great black iron cauldron hung in the fire, but the usual smells of Hagrid's cooking were absent. Hagrid made them tea, which they accepted. He offered them stoat sandwiches, which they politely declined, and even Fang, who normally seemed as though would eat anything that a person said was food, went and hid under Hagrid's mammoth bed when they were offered to him.

"So—yeh wanted ter ask me somethin'."

"We want to know what else is guarding the Stone besides Fluffy," Padma said without preamble.

"I can' tell yeh that," Hagrid said. "Number one, I don' rightly know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almos' stolen outta Gringotts—I s'ppose yeh've got that all worked out?"

"Did Professor Dumbledore _know_ there was going to be a break in?" Harry asked.

Hagrid's eyes tightened. "I dunno what yeh mean."

"I mean did the Headmaster deliberately bring to Hogwarts something that someone _broke into Gringotts_ to try and get?" Harry asked.

"Hogwarts is the safest place on the planet!" Hagrid proclaimed.

"So far this year someone has tried to kill me twice!" Harry said. "Would have, if Cedric and what's-his-name, the Ravenclaw Seeker—"

"Rudyard," Padma said.

"—Rudyard, hadn't been as good as they are, or if Allie hadn't jumped between me and a ball of primordial fire during her duel. That same someone probably unleashed the troll that nearly got Hermione, Ron and me killed on Halloween."

"And Padma would have been killed just before the winter hols if not for Allie," Parvati added.

"If you can't tell us what's guarding the thing," Harry said, "I'd at least like to know who Dumbledore trusts enough to actually help guard it so I know who I _don't_ have to worry about trying to kill me."

"Yer not suggesting its one o' the _Hogwarts_ Pr'fessors," Hagrid said.

"Do you think one of the older students could have hijacked a duel overseen by Professor Flitwick or tried to throw me off my broom?" Harry asked quietly.

"You said it yourself, Hagrid," Parvati added. "Whoever did it have to have used awfully powerful Dark Magic."

Hagrid refused to meet Harry's look, instead staring down at the large clay carafe that served him as a tea mug. "Well…I don' s'ppose it'd hurt to tell yeh who's guardin' der Stone…let's see…he borrowed Fluffy from me …then some o' the teachers did enchantments…Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwick—Professor McGonagall—" he ticked them off his fingers, "Professor Quirrell—and Dumbledore did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone, Professor Snape."

"_Snape_?" Parvati blurted.

"Yeah, hey," he said, turning to Harry, "yeh and yer friends aren' all still on abou' that, are yeh? Professor Snape is helpin' _protect_ the Stone. Why would he want ter steal it?"

"Hagrid," Padma said quickly before Harry had to reply. "Do you know why Professor Dumbledore asked you? I mean, isn't Professor Kettleburn the Care of Magical Creatures instructor?"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore wanted somethin' big that could scare off students that got into der corridor accidentally," Hagrid said. "None o' Professor Kettleburn's creatures are really all that big, an' he favors those that breathe fire or have deadly venom."

"Oh," Padma said, "but you're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, right? And you wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's a secret between me an' Dumbledore," Hagrid said firmly. "O' course I wouldn' tell anyone."

"Well that's something, at least," Harry muttered. "Hagrid, can we open the windows? It's broiling in here."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," Hagrid said, looking nervously at the fire.

Harry turned and looked. Underneath the black iron cauldron was a very large, very black egg. "Hagrid," he said slowly, "what is that?"

"Well, er…"

"It must have cost you a fortune to sneak into the country," Parvati said.

"Trading in viable dragon eggs is illegal," her sister added.

"Well, I won it, actually," Hagrid said.

"You _won_ it?" Harry repeated.

"Yep," Hagrid said. "I was down in the village last night, havin' a few drinks at the pub, an' I got in-ter a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was glad ter be rid of it, ter be honest."

"I couldn't imagine why," Parvati said drolly.

"I know, righ'?" Hagrid asked. "A real dragon's egg!"

"Hagrid," Padma said slowly.

"Yeh," the groundskeeper said proudly.

"Presumably it is going to hatch…"

"Well, I've bin doin' a bit o' readin'," Hagrid said. "I got this outta the library," he continued, pulling out a book and setting it on the table.

"_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_?" Harry asked.

"It's a bit dated, o' course," Hagrid said. The embossed cover proudly proclaimed it to be the 1666 revised edition "Still, dragons don' change much now do they? Keep the egg in the fire 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, and when it hatches yeh feed the dragonet a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half-hour. An' see here, how ter recognize differen' eggs? What I got there is a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

"So what do you think?" Harry asked later as they walked back to the castle.

"Well, Hagrid's dragon aside I think we can scratch the professors who are helping to guard the Stone off the list," Paravti said reluctantly. "It's just…Snape seemed like such a likely person."

"Actually," her sister said softly, "I think that it's just the reverse. That whoever is attacking us and trying to get the Stone…I think that person is one of the people guarding it."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well…knowledge about the Stone is restricted, right?" Padma asked. "I'm sure the staff knows that _something_ is in the school, but Dumbledore needn't have told them _what_ exactly it is. He'd have only really needed to tell the people who were helping to guard it. In fact he wouldn't really _have_ to tell even them, though I think he probably did."

"Professor Sprout probably wouldn't agree to help without knowing what she was helping guard," Harry agreed reluctantly. "So you think it's one of them because they would have known about it?"

"And because by being part of the security they're really above suspicion. You heard Hagrid," Padma said. "If _I_ was trying to steal something someone was having guarded, setting myself up as one of the guards would be how I would do it."

They walked on together for a while.

"Snape," Parvati said finally as they paused before the doors to the Entrance Hall.

Her sister hesitated, but then nodded in agreement. "Snape."

Harry didn't hesitate at all before echoing his friends.

\|/\|/\|/

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a _peaceful_ life?" Parvati asked at breakfast the next morning as she looked with considerable disgust at the study sheet her sister had given her. By now the sight of a tiny knot of first years with very different house badges sitting clustered together at one end of the Hufflepuff table had long since stopped drawing the attention of anyone but Snape.

"It isn't _that_ bad," Padma said. "_Granger_ is already making study schedules—"

"What do you call _this_?" Parvati asked, shaking the parchment.

"—for end of year exams."

"I know, why do you think I'm studying with you?" Harry asked. It was a slight exaggeration. He was still studying with Hermione and Ron, but Parvati flatly insisted on taking breaks for 'fun' stuff and Hermione was much harder to deter than Padma. Allie had started a small study group for revising potions, but it met infrequently. A lot of her time seemed to be spent on a quest to keep Neville Longbottom of Gryffindor from failing Potions and herself from failing Herbology.

Padma shrugged, "have you bought into the pool?"

"What pool?" Harry asked.

"The one Fred and George Weasley started," Parvati said. "About how you think Neville's going to finish in Potions. Buy in is two sickles and I heard the pot is already up over twelve galleons. You have to name both how he does on the final potion, and the grade Snape gives him. Winners split the pot, with Allie and Neville each getting a sixth off the top and can't buy in."

"Oh, no I haven't then," Harry said. "What did you get?"

"Exceeds expectations and an incomplete but otherwise correct potion," Padma said.

"Acceptable, non-exploding cauldron," Parvati said.

"Good morning, Padma," Susan Bones said as she sat down next to the Ravenclaw. Snape still glared at them whenever he saw people from more than one House eating together though he'd stopped taking points for it months ago. By now it had become second nature to most of the Hufflepuffs, and a few of the upper years had even started to have friends from other House show up.

"Susan," Padma said, nodding back. She looked up and down the hall. "You know," she said, "it's nice. The inter-house unity and all, I mean. And while I wouldn't necessarily mind having all the Hufflepuffs over, some of my house-mates might want a little room for themselves."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked on cue.

Padma pointed to the ceiling. Specifically, she pointed to where the house banners hung over each of the tables. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff banners still hung over the center two tables, but they had been switched around.

An angry shout went up from Slytherin where the students had realized that the same was true of the banners over that house and Gryffindor. In the lower right corner of each was a splash of tie-dyed color with HLC in the center written in a shockingly bright pink.

"The Hogwarts Lunatic Committee has struck again, I see," Susan said. She shook her head to smother a giggle. "I do hope they know what they're doing."

"What makes you say that?" Padma asked, liberating a small pile of pancakes from a platter as it strolled by.

"I was in the owlery yesterday to mail a letter to Auntie. The Weasley twins were leaving just as I got there, and had a very large package with them."

"Probably just stuff from home," Harry said. "I spent Christmas with them, and their mother sent them all huge packages of fudge and stuff."

"Maybe," Susan said doubtfully, "or they could have been stocking up for a prank war."

Harry was saved from having to answer by Hedwig sweeping in on silent wings. She back-winged beautifully to kill momentum, and Harry only felt a sudden weight on his shoulder a moment before a beak snapped out and took the sausage off the end of his fork as neatly as one could ask.

"You've really gotten the hang of that," Susan said. "Our family owls always fly into my shoulder like it's a mouse and then scramble to hang on for dear life."

Harry shrugged one (unoccupied) shoulder and fed Hedwig a bit of bacon before accepting the note from her. It was in Hagrid's familiar scrawl, and only two words long. _It's Hatching_. Conscious of Susan's presence he slipped it into his pocket and continued to eat breakfast.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry wanted to go to Hagrid's right after breakfast and Parvati was right with him. Padma, however, wouldn't hear of it.

"We can't skip classes, how will we explain it? We'd get in trouble, detention, and _then_ how would we see it?" she asked. "Besides, what if someone sees us? We can't all fit under Harry's cloak and the grounds are wide open. What Hagrid's doing is illegal, all it would take is for the wrong person to see and _then_ what do you think would happen?"

He doubted Binns would notice, but Fliwick and McGonagall certainly would and it wouldn't be fair to his friends if he went alone. So he sat through History of Magic, for once managing to stay awake despite Binns' droning monotone as the ghost recited the events leading up to the Goblin Rebellion of 1639. Padma and Parvati were waiting in the Entrance Hall when the bell rang for the morning break, and together the three went down to Hagrid's hut where the Groundskeeper met them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," he said, ushering them inside.

The black egg had been set upon the table. A towel twisted into a donut shape kept it from rolling off the table. Deep cracks had already split the surface of the egg. Sections of shell moved this way and that, but never quite totally separating. Funny clicking noises came from inside the egg.

They eagerly pulled up chairs to watch more closely. Padma had even brought along some parchment and began to jot down observations. "Hagrid, do you know if dragons eat their shells the way some birds and reptiles do?"

"Couldn' find out one way or the other," Hagrid said absently.

There was a knock on the door.

The three first looked at each other warily as Hagrid got up and went to the door. He peered outside, then opened the door just wide enough for Hermione and Ron to sneak in.

"Has it happened yet?" Hermione asked.

"No," Padma said unhappily as she watched the Gryffindor find a seat.

"Oh good," Hermione said. "Say, can I have a copy of your notes? I ran completely out of parchment."

Padma looked less than thrilled but nodded.

"So how did you find out?" Parvati asked her roommate.

"You remember that field hike Professor Sprout took us to for us to take wild cuttings for Herbology?" Hermione asked. "Well, I saw Hagrid slaughtering chickens when we came back and there was a cart from Old Tillman's Brewers & Distillers in front of Hagrid's, dropping off a giant cask. I was curious, so we came back later and asked."

"Shh," Harry said. There was a soft screech from inside the egg, followed by a hollow thump. After a moment there was a scraping sound and the narrow end of the egg popped off of the top.

Despite the towel the egg tilted crazily over onto its side, much to the displeasure of its occupant judging by the noises issuing from inside it. A moment more, then something black that looked sort of like a broken umbrella tumbled out.

The baby Norwegian Ridgeback was jet black. Four straw-like legs that sprawled haphazardly on the table were connected to a body that was sort of a cross between a fat snake and a skinny lizard. Its tail was black, long and very thin, and whipped wildly behind it. A neck that wasn't much thicker than the body of a quill sprouted from the end opposite the tail, and held up a head that was barely the size of a snitch. It had bulbous orange eyes and a tiny black snout with fangs that curled down out of its mouth. Wings sprouted from the dragon's shoulders. Tiny little bones gave the impression of an umbrella's ribs, and a very fine membrane was stretched between then.

"Wow," Ron said.

The dragon twisted its head around to look at Ron and sneezed explosively. Tiny little sparks were blasted halfway across the table.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid crooned, reaching out to stroke the dragon's eye-ridges with an over-sized finger. The dragon snapped at him, displaying a full set of sharp teeth. "Awe, look at that, he knows his mommy!"

"Hagrid, just how quickly do dragons grow?" Hermione asked.

Hagrid, however, was not paying attention. He produced a bowl that was almost half the size of Harry's potion cauldron. A large stoppered jug, one of a score or more that lined one wall, was taken up and the cork popped out. The mixture, which Hagrid began to pour into the bowl, was dark red and strangely thin-looking. The smell of it was quite potent.

The dragon's head snapped away from examining its tail as soon as the jug was opened. It half-scampered, half-crawled across the table, all six limbs plus the tail moving so fast that they blurred, but they were so awkwardly coordinated that it ended up going sideways or backwards almost as often as it went forwards.

It dove into the bowl with a splash and began to feed with a fervor that even Ron could not have bested.

"Wow," Ron said again as the dragon wallowed in its food. "Look at that."

"That _is_ pretty neat," Parvati agreed.

Hermione, Harry noticed, looked a little green. He turned to Padma to find her busily sketching the dragon. Turning back to the dragon he tilted his chair forward and looked a little closer. The dragon had immersed its head and neck past its shoulders in the bloody fluid, the rest of its body hanging over the edge of the bowl so that the tail barely hit the table as it flicked back and forth. There was a slight gurgling sound from the bowl, and as he watched he could see the level of fluid slowly dropping. Despite the speed with which it was eating, however, the dragon didn't seem to be growing any.

"Hagrid," He said as Hagrid replaced the stopper in the jug. "How often do they need to come up for air?"

"Dunno," Hagrid said. "Yeh don' think it'd accidentally drown itself, do yeh?"

Harry could only shrug.

At length the bowl was emptied. The dragon scraped around for almost a minute before it came to the disappointing conclusion that it had gotten everything.

"Yer a cute one, aren' yeh?" Hagrid cooed at it.

The dragon belched. A jet of blue flame burst into the air and threatened to set Hagrid's beard on fire.

\|/\|/\|/

Very little was seen of Hagrid over the next week. Weeds began to sprout in the vegetable beds. Several students ended up in the Hospital Wing after flesh-eating slugs rolled out of the lettuce. Fred and George's holly appeared to have had some kudzu bred into it as the plant, long kept at bay, resumed its attack on Hogwarts' walls. While the annoyingly impossible-to-kill plant did not need magic to survive, when it grew where there was magic it grew very fast indeed.

"This can't be a good sign," Ron said as he, Hermione, and both Padma and Parvati Patil escorted Harry to the Hufflepuff locker room for the Hufflepuff's final game. The walls of the Quidditch pitch were covered with green vines, except for the doors.

"This is ridiculous, that's what it is," Hermione said. "I mean, I've heard of walls being covered in vines, but _holly_? At _this_ time of year? And in only a _week_? I've heard of kudzu growing fast but not this fast. It's insane. It's already nearly up to the battlements. What's going to happen when it gets over the walls and begins to grow up the halls and towers?"

"Let's hope that Hagrid recovers his senses and it doesn't come to that," Padma said grimly.

Harry, Ron, and Parvati exchanged looks. That Hermione and Padma were agreeing about something and didn't look ready to take each others' head off could not possibly be a good sign.

"Is anyone saying anything about it?" Harry asked.

Parvati shook her head. "Oh, there are rumors about what's causing it, but no one has pinned it to Hagrid, yet. And so far there are no rumors about his…new pet."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry waited as Thrace finished her usual pre-game pep-speech, but instead of telling them to take to their brooms she hesitated. "This is the last one of the season, for some of us here it's our final game at Hogwarts. We've got a good team, a good mix of experienced players and new players, a good mix of talent and skill, and all I can say is that this is the best team I've been on yet. I just want you all to know, in case I don't get a chance to say it later, it has been an honor and privilege to have been your Captain.

"You all know the standings. If we can hold the Snakes to less than a hundred points then no matter what we finish with, or the outcome of the Lion/Eagle game, then Slytherin doesn't get the cup this year. That's what's on the line. For every year I've been here the Snakes have taken the House and Quidditch Cups. I'd just as soon not end my Hogwarts years by being the _second_ class they sweep."

She looked around at them all. "Okay, you know the plan and I think it's a good one. Get to your brooms, and _let's go Play SOME __**QUIDDITCH!**_"

The kudzu-holly, Harry noticed as he trotted out after the rest of the team, hadn't made it to the inside of the pitch. The ground was firm, which meant a good kick-off, and the grass was only slightly damp from morning dew. The air was slightly on the cool-side. It was just about as beautiful a day for Quidditch as could be asked for.

Watching as Madam Hooch came out with the chest of balls and went through the traditional call to the Captains to shake hands he reviewed the game plan. Most of it was straightforward. Thrace had a few tick plays she wanted to throw in, particularly the Porskoff Ploy K-Option-2 play that the Chasers had been working on all season, but mainly it'd be the Hufflepuff's standard game of good clean Quidditch.

The tricky part was that the plan was for them to leave themselves open to being fouled. The Chasers had been spending an inordinate amount of time practicing penalty shots in anticipation of this. The assumption being that if the Slytherins saw a chance to foul, at least surreptitiously, they would go for it. And, as Tonks had pointed out, once they were losing the need to make up the difference would cause them to foul more often and openly.

As Hooch released the balls Harry wondered if Allie had let slip that comment about how the Slytherin team played all those months ago in anticipation of this game? Tonks had certainly used it as inspiration when she suggested this tactic to Thrace. Then Hooch blew her whistle, the game was on, and there wasn't a whole lot of time for wondering about anything.

\|/\|/\|/

After the game they all walked down to Hagrid's hut.

"Harry!" Hagrid said, when he cracked the door open. He stepped back and ushered them in quickly. "How was the game?" he asked. "Sorry I couldn' be there ter watch, but…"

The hut was still very hot, and dark because of the closed curtains, and smelled strongly of smoke. Brandy bottles were scattered haphazardly across the floor, and chicken feathers were scattered everywhere.

"We won," Harry said. "370 to 140." Despite getting over a hundred points, the score differential had been enough to edge Slytherin out of the Quidditch Cup. If Ravenclaw could just keep Gryffindor from racking up the points, Hufflepuff would win.

"Tha's fantastic!" Hagrid said. "Yeh caught the snitch a'course."

"You should have seen them," Ron said. "The Chasers must have spent weeks—"

"Months," Harry said.

"—practicing their penalty shots. They didn't cause any fouls themselves, but they just left themselves open for the snakes to play dirty and when Hooch caught them at it, they ended up another ten points up," Ron said. "And they came up with a new way of applying the Porskoff Ploy that gave the Keeper fits. Instead of coming in high the lead Chaser comes in low and crosses into the scoring zone and swoops up, or swoops up just outside of it, and then either goes for the shot or drops it to the second Chaser who is also coming in low."

"I wish I coulda seen it," Hagrid said. He looked over at the hearth where the dragon was sleeping off another brandy and chicken binge. "I've decided to call him Norbert. He really knows me now. Watch. Norbert! Norbert, where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

"Be nice," Parvati said, elbowing Ron sharply in the side.

"You know you can't keep him here, Hagrid," Padma said. "In a week he's tripled in size. How much longer will it be before this hut it too small for him? How long will it be before he needs space to fly, or before he starts to breathe fire?"

Hagrid's face fell and he ducked his head down. Harry could see the tears well up in the Groundskeeper's eyes. "I—I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him. He's too little. He'd die. An'…an' it wouldn' be the responsible thing ter do."

Harry watched Padma pinch the bridge of her nose. He turned to Hermione, "How long do we have before Norbert can't be hid?" he asked.

"At his current rate of growth?" Hermione asked. "One week, perhaps two."

They turned to Hagrid who was watching Norbert huff and puff by the fireplace.

"Okay, so we have two weeks, maximum, to get the dragon out of here," Padma said. "Beyond that I'm not sure we could sneak it off the grounds, assuming we can in the first place."

"What happens if we don't?" Parvati asked. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I think the penalty for violating the ban on dragon breeding is ten years in Azkaban," Padma said.

Hagrid stopped playing with Norbert. For the first time seemed a little concerned.

"Kind of scary, watching them," Ron muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So we can't ignore it—Norbert," he said.

"And we can't just dump it in the forest. It wouldn't be…responsible," Padma said, looking at Hagrid. "If it did survive then in a couple of months, maybe even a couple of years if we were really lucky, someone would notice."

"At least it wouldn't be traced back to Hagrid," Ron said.

"Oh they could trace it easy enough," Padma said, dismissively. "I just don't know if anyone could _prove_ anything, and that's what we need to be worried about. I don't suppose we can just kill it either."

Hagrid, Harry thought, looked if anything even more put out by this suggestion than the prospect of going to the wizard prison.

"There are two dragon reserves in Britain," Hermione said. "One in Wales that primarily keeps Common Welsh Greens, and one in the Hebrides that primarily keeps the Hebrides Black. I suppose either would have the resources to care for an infant Norwegian Ridgeback until it could be moved to a reserve in Norway."

"I don't think mom and dad would be interested in transporting a juvenile dragon," Parvati said doubtfully.

"Could yours do it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "If we got it in a box or something to travel in, and they wouldn't even need to transport it all the way. If we could get in someplace remote, we could send a message to one of the reserves that there is a dragon at such-and-such a place."

"If they could arrange to take a vacation this quickly…Mum might," Hermione said. "She's been into muggle fantasy literature since before I was born. She was the one who convinced Dad to let me go to Hogwarts. But I'm not sure she'd understand the danger, she might try to take a look. If she got hurt, or worse, if the Ministry of Magic found out, well, it'd be pretty obvious how she got possession. And we'd still have to get the dra…get _Norbert_ out of the gates."

"My mum would never go for it," Ron said morosely.

"I suppose we could tell Allie," Harry said slowly, aware of the dark looks sent him by Ron and Hermione. "Maybe she knows someone, or the wizard she was apprenticed to…Gilbert?—something like that—knows someone."

"Wait," Ron said, sitting up sharply, the funk he had slipped into gone in an instant. "_I_ know someone. My brother Charlie. He works in a dragon reserve in Romania."

"Isn't that a little far away?" Harry asked.

"There are ways of magically transporting things," Parvati said with a shake of her head. "We just can't use any of them yet. Distance isn't really an issue, except for how long it'll take a letter to get there by owl post."

"Charlie could probably find someone that'd come and take him," Ron said.

"What's Charlie's position at the reserve?" Padma asked.

"Apprentice Dragon Keeper-3rd Class," Ron said. "He's in his last year of a three-year apprenticeship. Why?"

"Is that going to be senior enough?" Harry asked. It didn't sound very high at all, and if Hagrid could go to prison for ten years, how long would Charlie go there if he was caught? "I mean, if he's caught…would he take that risk?"

"And as Hagrid said, Ridgebacks are rare," Ron said. "_Really_ rare. If the Ministry caught Norbert—"

"He'd be killed," Padma said. "Condemned as smuggled or illegal goods, considering how Hagrid got him. Or maybe just as a dangerous creature."

"Exactly," Ron said. "But they're rare enough that the kind of people who run the reserves would be willing to…" he shrugged.

"Smuggle a dragon out of Britain?" Padma asked wryly.

Harry turned to Hagrid. "Would that be alright with you?" he asked.

Hagrid hesitated, then nodded. His eyes were very misty. "Yeah, Charlie's a righ' one with animals."

"So now we have a plan," Parvati said.

"We don't have a plan," Hermione objected. "We have an idea. We have—we have a wishful thought! If the letter gets there in time. If Charlie is able to get a response to use quickly enough. If—"

"Risk it all on one turn o'…something or other."

All five students slowly turned and looked at Hagrid.

The Groundskeeper frowned, then gave a helpless shrug. "Somethin' yer mum told me once, Harry. Can' remember exactly how it went, somethin' about takin' a risk an' losing an' startin' again. Right smart, yer mum."

"Yes," Hermione said awkwardly, "well…" She looked around the table, "you do realize that if we are caught, expulsion is the very least that could happen to us?"

"I thought you said that expulsion was a fate worse than death, Granger," Padma said.

"Your point?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow as Ron looked rather grey.

"Harry," the other boy said quickly before Padma could retort. "Do you mind if I use Hedwig to post my brother?"

Harry started to agree, but paused. Months of sneaking around the castle and having a friend in Slytherin made him hesitate. "No," he said slowly. "Snowy owls aren't exactly common in England or Romania. If anyone were to notice her, they'd wonder."

"Oh," Ron said. "I suppose you're right.

"Could you send a letter home and have your parents forward it?" Hermione asked. "That's what my mother is doing for my letters to my other relatives."

"Mum would insist on reading it," Ron said, shaking his head. "But…Ginny might. I'd probably have to promise to tell her why though, but I can tell her it'd have to wait so I could tell her in person." He turned to Harry, "I can send a letter to Mum as well. I'm not sure how she'd take me borrowing your owl."

"That's not a problem," Harry said. "I can ask Hedwig to take them right to your sister. I'll add a short note as well, just in case your mother should happen to see Hedwig, thanking her for giving me the chance to let Hedwig stretch her wings."


	20. Chapter 20: Dragon Flight

**Chapter 20: Dragon Flight**

_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus  
_-Hogwarts' motto-

\|/\|/\|/

"What happened?" Harry asked, once the unused classroom door was firmly shut behind him.

"We got a reply," Ron said, flipping Harry a parchment envelope with his left hand.

It went low and left and Harry had to lunge for it to keep it from hitting the ground.

"Sorry," Ron said with a grimace.

"Never mind that, what happened to your hand?" Harry asked. Ron's right hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.

"Norbert," Ron said. "I was helping Hagrid feed him—thanks for lending me your cloak by the way."

"Sure," Harry said. The 'baby' dragon was eating rats by the crate-full. Many of the cats were looking distinctly put out.

"Anyway, the blasted thing bit me and then Hagrid told me off for frightening it," Ron said angrily. "I mean, here we are, trying to help him save his bloody monster, which he treats like it's a fluffy little bunny or something, and he has a go at me."

"Have you had Madam Pomfrey take a look at it?" Harry asked, letter momentarily forgotten.

"Of course he hasn't," Padma said. "Why would Ronald Weasley do something sensible for once?"

"And what, exactly, would he tell her?" Hermione asked Padma. "'I got bitten by a dragon that doesn't exist?'"

"Granger, he was bitten by a _dragon_," Padma said slowly, as though addressing a very inept student. "You don't think that _maybe_ warrants at least a medi-magic examination?"

"All right, that's enough," Parvati said. "Now is get-rid-of-dragon-time. You two can have who's-the-smarter-witch-time later."

Hermione's lip curled at her dorm-mate, and Padma gave her sister a dark look, but both lapsed into silence.

Harry flipped open the note. "Dear Ron," he read, "I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback…send him over with some friends of mine…next week…tallest tower at midnight on Saturday. Charlie."

He flipped the letter closed and passed it back to Ron. "Which tallest tower?"

"What do you mean 'which tallest tower?'" Hermione asked. "'Tallest' is a superlative, that means—"

"We _know_ what it means, Granger," Padma cut her off. "But Hogwarts rearranges itself and its geography doesn't have to make sense. I've talked to people who've been in Dumbledore's office, and they agree that you can look out his window down onto the Astronomy Tower."

"We aren't using Dumbledore's office," Harry said flatly.

"We'll use the Astronomy Tower," Hermione said.

"We'll have to take along some lanterns or something to indicate where we are, just in case," Padma added. "Do you think your invisibility cloak is big enough?"

Harry held up the cloak. "I don't know," he said, turning from it to his friends. "I suppose it'll depend upon how big a crate Hagrid has him in. I should be able to get one more person under it besides myself and Norbert. I hope."

"We'll have to carry it," Hermione said. "The crate, I mean. There's no telling how it…Norbert would react to a levitation charm."

\|/\|/\|/

"A dragon of all things, Albus."

Albus sat back in his chair and savored a lemon drop as he watched his Deputy pace. He made a mental note to try and find out where the lemon drops that had been left for him on the Feast of St. Nicholas had come from.

"I am perfectly aware of Hagrid's new pet, Minerva," he said mildly.

"And what have you done about it?" she asked.

"Directly? Nothing," he said. "My hands are tied in this as much as yours…unless you prefer to take _official_ notice of it?"

She started to do just that, then stopped. "Damn you, Albus."

"Perhaps," he said mildly. "But unless we want to accept the consequences, _all_ of the consequences, there is little we can do. I have taken steps to insure the safety of the students and staff. At this point…Norbert is no more than mildly, if painfully, venomous. If the situation does not change in the near future more drastic measures can be contemplated."

"You're using _students_," Minerva seethed at him.

"Indeed I am," Albus said. "That people working unofficially, even illegally, can do more good—or at least better resolve situations—than those in authority taking official action is an unfortunate, but occasionally very real, fact of life. And I do not mean to leave them entirely unsupported. I fully intend to give them what aid I can. Since we resumed Prefect Patrols I have been shuffling them on occasion. I will do so again to give them a clear path from their common rooms to Hagrid's hut. Realistically there is little more that we can do at this time. Perhaps if we know what their plans are, if any, we can do more."

"And if they get caught anyway?" Minerva asked. "I recall having rather the same discussion with you once…more than once, actually."

"Harry is not a werewolf, Minerva, the situation is rather different."

"No," she said. "In this Severus is, unfortunately correct—and you didn't hear such a thing from me!—he's worse than a werewolf, Albus. He's a _celebrity_. If you don't think that the populace wouldn't turn on him in an eye-blink then all of those lemon drops have been rotting your mind as well as your teeth."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Nevertheless, Minerva, we will take no official notice. If they are caught out after hours, so be it. We may applaud whatever action they take, but only in private."

"And what do you think Pomona would think about this? It is her student we are talking about after all."

"What makes you think that we have not already talked about this?" Albus asked in reply.

"She would never have allowed herself into going along with this, not where the students are concerned."

\|/\|/\|/

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as Harry walked into the hospital wing. "You're earlier than I expected. No Quidditch games or practices scheduled for you. I _had_ hoped you would make it through to the end of the year, you know."

"I'm fine," Harry said quickly. "I was told Ron was in the hospital wing."

The medi-witch nodded briskly. "He is. A dog bite, or so he claims." She gave him a searching look. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Harry said.

"Mr. Potter, I am not stupid," she said crossly. "Mr. Weasley was bit by something. Bit by something that was either poisonous, diseased, or that he is having an allergic reaction to, perhaps all three. Bit by something that was most definitely _not_ a dog. My oaths as a medi-witch and Healer insure my silence where my patients' privacy is concerned, and Headmaster Dumbledore has assured me that no student will be in trouble for anything they admit to while in my care. I have seen no reason to doubt his word."

Harry hesitated and looked down the ward to where Hermione and the Patil twins were clustered around a bed. Turning back to Madam Pomfrey he said in a hushed voice. "It was a dragon."

"A dragon," she repeated skeptically.

Harry nodded. "Hagrid got a Norwegian Ridgeback egg. It hatched last week. Ron was helping him feed Norbert."

"Norbert," she said flatly. "Of course. Hagrid _would_ give a dragon a name like that wouldn't he?" she asked. After a moment she sighed. "Someone is going to have to have a talk with him about his choice of pets."

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone about—"

"And I won't, Mr. Potter," she said testily. "But _you_ are not the person with juvenile dragon poisoning, nor the person who will have to administer treatment for the same." She turned abruptly. "Go to your friend, Mr. Potter. You have twenty minutes and then Mr. Weasley needs to rest. I am going to go check my stocks of burn creams."

Harry watched her retreat to her office, then turned and walked down the ward to Ron's bed.

"Madam Pomfrey said that you said that you got bit by a dog," he said.

"I've never heard of a dog bite turning green before," Padma said mildly.

Ron grimaced. "I don't think she believed me but I couldn't think of anything else to tell her."

"Even _I_ could think of a better lie than that!" Parvati said. "I mean, where are you going to even _find_ a dog except Fang and he's, well, fangless, really."

"Thanks for pointing that out," Ron said sourly, "I don't think I noticed."

"Well," Hermione said with a forced smile at least you'll have all sorts of time to study. "I can get you your assignments."

"Speaking of," Ron said. "Can you find me a copy of the Charms textbook?"

"What happened to yours?" Hermione asked. "I was sure I already brought it up—"

"You did," Ron said. "Malfoy stopped by. Told Madam Pomfrey that he was here to borrow a book, and stood there and had a good laugh. Spent the whole time threatening to tell her what really bit me."

"How did _he_ find out?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged.

"Face it, Granger, Hagrid isn't the subtlest person around," Padma said. "Malfoy doesn't always think things through, but that doesn't mean he's stupid."

"Well, I suppose we can report him to Professor McGonagall for theft," Hermione said in a huff. She shook her head. "At least it'll all be over at midnight on Saturday."

But that didn't soothe Ron at all. Instead he bolted upright in bed. His face instantly turned a paste white and he only barely muffled a cry of pain from resting his weight on his injured hand. "My book!" he said through clenched teeth as he slumped back against the pillows. "We were working on charms when Charlie's letter came. I stuck it inside my book. He's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry didn't get a chance to respond as Madam Pomfrey came back and made them leave so Ron could rest.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione whispered as soon as they were out of the hospital wing.

"I'm going to let you and Parvati borrow my cloak," Harry said. "You're both in the same dorm. Less chance of you being noticed that way. Otherwise no matter how we did it someone would have to pick someone else up and drop them off."

"And Malfoy?"

"Allie," Padma said. "She can get the book and letter back before Malfoy goes to one of the teachers with it, if she knows about it quickly enough."

\|/\|/\|/

But Allie wasn't able to get the letter back.

The next day when they were in the library the Slytherin walked up and dropped Ron's Charms textbook in front of Hermione. "Don't ask how I got it," she said shortly.

Hermione immediately opened it and began to rifle through the pages.

"Don't bother. It isn't there."

Hermione looked up sharply. "I don't know what you mean."

"I told her," Harry said.

"What?" Hermione asked. "Why?"

"Hagrid's her friend too," Harry said. "Besides, she had to know what to look for."

"The letter isn't here?" Hermione asked.

"It isn't in the book, and it isn't in Slytherin," Allie said.

"You checked the whole dorms?"

"Not personally," Allie said. "Look, I made some discrete inquiries. Malfoy had the letter yesterday and was seen leaving the Slytherin common room with it. He's either keeping it right on his person, or he's stashed it somewhere outside of the dorms."

"He could have given it to a teacher," Hermione said. "We're in so much trouble."

"If he did we would have heard something by now," Harry said. "I mean, keeping a dragon like that is illegal. Dumbledore would have _had_ to have alerted the Ministry if he was informed…right?"

"And Lavender hasn't said anything about there being a dragon in the castle or on the grounds," Parvati said. "That kind of thing is too juicy for the rumors to miss if there was even a hint of it."

"That doesn't tell us where the letter is," Hermione said.

"It doesn't matter, Hermione," Harry said. "I don't think there's anything we can do about it. All we can do is continue on like we planned." He glanced around the table once. Seeing the nods of agreement from the others he turned to Allie. "Can you keep an eye on Malfoy?"

"I suppose, but I don't know how much good it'd do." Allie stood again. "If I pass you any notes, however, make sure you burn them once you've read them. There's already been quite enough stupidity where notes are concerned."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry was heading down to supper on Saturday when a commotion in the Entrance Hall brought him to a stop. "What's happening?" he asked, trying to squeeze past a couple of older students in order to see.

"DMLE law enforcement patrol," one of them said. "There's a couple of wizards from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures too."

Harry spun around and started for a staircase he knew led to the Gryffindor common room.

"Harry!"

He looked up to find Parvati almost literally sailing down the stair to him. Hermione was right behind her. "The Ministry—"

"I know," he said quickly. "Can you get in contact with Padma? Fast?"

She nodded.

"Good, see if you can find Allie as well, met me in front of the fruit-bowl still life in the Hufflepuff corridor."

"We have to warn Hagrid," Hermione hissed.

"We have to get Norbert out before the Ministry starts looking," Harry said. "You still have my invisibility cloak, go get it and tell Hagrid. Hopefully he'll have a way of moving Norbert and you can get him in it and quiet quickly."

"If nothing else we can let it go in the forest and coax it back with brandy and chicken blood once the Ministry people leave," Hermione said. "But what about Charlie's friends? If the Ministry has people on the Astronomy Tower…"

"I've got an idea for that," Harry said. "I'm going to send Hedwig off with a note. We'll take Norbert to a different tower."

"All right," Hermione said reluctantly. "I'll see you at Hagrid's."

"You're going to take her to the Tower?" Parvati hissed.

"Do you have a better idea?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Parvati said. "Go, I'll see you in a bit."

Harry hurried back down the staircase and tore down the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room. Hedwig was waiting on the small perch that he had put in the deep round window by his bed. How the Hufflepuff dormitories had windows that opened outside while the rooms were underground was one of Hogwarts' many internal inconsistencies he tried not to think about. Now he penned a short note to look for a pair of blue lights and a red. No information about where or who had sent the note.

"Take this to Charlie's friends," he said. "Do you think you can find them?"

Hedwig huffed and bunched her feathers and glared at him for doubting her. Then straightened and stretched her wings as though to say 'Am I not the most magnificent owl in the world?'

"Sorry, Hedwig," Harry said. "I should have known better."

Hedwig nodded in agreement. He really should have. Foolish wizard.

She took the note and he let her out through the window. Harry hurried out of the sett and down the hall to where the other first years were gathered.

"Parvati filled us in," Padma said. "Plan?"

"Hermione and I move Norbert out of Hagrid's hut and stash him somewhere until we can move him into the Tower of Turmoil," Harry said.

"You'll have to wait until curfew," Allie said. "Unless you think you can manage to keep you, Granger, and the crate under your cloak without anything peeking out _and_ manage to avoid bumping into anyone."

Harry grimaced. "And Norbert probably isn't going to be quiet in his crate and despite it being Hedwig I don't know if she can find Charlie's friends." The girls all looked at him. "Okay, that was pretty stupid. Of _course_ she'll find them. But I don't know if they'll figure out the note, or follow it."

"I'll take care of the Astronomy Tower," Allie said reluctantly. "If they show up maybe I can wave them off before the Ministry people notice them. How did you plan to signal them?"

Harry explained his idea to use colored lights.

"We can rig a prank or two as distractions," Parvati said. "And get Justin, Ernie, and—"

"No," Harry said. "No sense in getting more people involved, or in trouble. And it would ruin Cedric's chances at being a Prefect and Tonks has been allowed into the Auror Academy. I don't want to ruin things for them."

"I suppose we'd better get to work then," Padma said.

\|/\|/\|/

Harry hurried across the grounds to Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door. The wizards and witches from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were searching the dungeons. Malfoy may have known there was a dragon on the grounds, but it was clear that he didn't know where it was.

Hagrid cracked the door open when he knocked, and opened the door just wide enough for Harry to slip inside. The hut was a mess. Chicken feathers, blood, spilled brandy, and broken bottles littered the floor and splashed up onto the walls. The quilt and sheets from Hagrid's giant bed were shredded ruins. Furniture was upended and broken. The table and floors had deep gouges from claws. Scorch marks liberally decorated everything, and the smell of burning wood filled the hut.

In the center of the floor was a large crate which rocked back and forth and made hissing sounds.

"I meant ter have a stock o' rats ter keep him fer the journey," Hagrid said, "an' brandy too, but there wasn' time. An' I've packed along his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

The crate stopped moving. A hissing growl issued, followed by the crate rocking violently as something tore. It sounded like the teddy bear had just been attacked by an unhappy dragon.

"How much time do we have?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "They're searching the dungeons right now, but they're going to come here sooner or later."

"Sooner," Hermione said definitely. "We have to get out of here."

"Bye bye, Norbert!" Hagrid said as they put the cloak over the crate before ducking under it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

"Er, Hagrid?" Harry asked from under the cloak.

Hagrid stopped cooing. "Harry? Why haven' yeh left yet?"

"We need you to open the door."

"Oh! Right."

\|/\|/\|/

The crate was very heavy and Norbert did not make things any easier. He moved about constantly, even violently, throwing off their balance. They almost dropped the crate and the cloak slid, threatening to fall off.

In the distance Harry saw several figures in bright robes walk out of Hogwarts. He muttered a word that made Hermione hiss his name.

"Ministry," he said. "They're heading this way."

"Head over for the lake," Hermione said.

They skirted the lake, pausing to set the crate down when it became too much and hushing for Norbert to be quiet which the dragon mostly ignored.

As they got closer to the main door of Hogwarts, Harry spotted two wizards wearing blue robes watching over the entrance. "Ministry wizards," he hissed to Hermione.

"Law Enforcement Patrol by the look of the robes, I've read the Aurors were scarlet," she replied. "What should we do?"

They needed a place to hide until the Ministry people left. Aside from the cloak they were wide out in the open. Unfortunately they were on the broad grass field that led up to Hogwarts and the only outstanding terrain feature was the lake.

"Down into the docks," Harry whispered back. They went down into the little underground harbor where the fleet of boats that had brought them to Hogwarts the first night was moored.

"We're never going to get past those guards!" Hermione cried once they were hidden.

"Never thou fear, MiLady."

Harry had the cloak whipped off and his wand out before whoever had spoken had finished. "Show yourself!"

A ghost glided out of one rough-hewn wall. He reminded Harry a little of the Gryffindor ghost with his antique dress, but it was something several centuries later. Instead of the ruff he wore a neck-cloth that spilled foamy lace from his throat to where it disappeared inside his coat, and a half-cape floated around his shoulders. He wore a rapier at his waist, and the plume in his very broad-brimmed hat was longer than Harry's arm. With only tight stockings on his legs Harry thought he looked rather top-heavy.

"I am here, young Master," he told Harry before turning to Hermione. He doffed his hat and made a very elaborate bow. "I, MiLady, am thy humble servant, Sir Armand Delaney." He straightened and put his hat back on. "Sir Nicholas has bid me escort thou into Hogwarts."

"Does he have a way of getting us inside past the guards?" Harry asked.

"Indeed, young Master, he does, but it is a way fraught with great peril," Armand said. "Even now he is guiding thy comrade to open the Water Gate. Whence thou hast past through yon Gate, thou shalt be able to approach Hogwarts from the sea-ward side. The sea-stair is narrow and perilous, but unguarded save in times of war and siege."

"Hogwarts is in the middle of Scotland!" Hermione protested. "Even by the Hogwarts Express we're _hours_ from the sea."

"Hogwarts, MiLady, is unplottable," Armand said. "The greatest of Navigators and gifted of Astronomers could not place its location upon the mortal sphere even through aid of the celestial lights. Nor could the best of Cartographers chart its location upon a map. If Hogwarts were to reside in only one place, even a dumb deaf and blind fool—for such people the Lord in His wisdom takes particular care to watch over—could wander across her. But if she were to reside in more than one place, why, she might be neither here nor there but rather there or here."

"Did that make any sense to you, Hermione?" Harry asked. He felt rather turned about by the ghost's explanation.

"Yes, a little," Hermione said, looking at the ghost intently. "Okay, let's get Norbert into a boat."

"Thou wilt need oars, MiLady, two pairs," the ghost said. "And a tiller and rudder for the boats are only self-navigating upon the Black Lake. And ropes. And warm clothing, for the sea is particularly frigid at this time of year."

"If we can't get into the castle, we can't get any warmer clothes," Hermione said tightly.

Magic the boats may be, but there was a long rack that Harry hadn't noticed when they had first come this way at the beginning of the year. On it were oars of a great many sizes, large coils of rope, rudders, and other things he couldn't begin to identify.

He grabbed four oars that were about the same size and walked to where Hermione was fussing about in one of the boats.

"Look," she said. "There are oarlocks that are fitted right into the gunnels so that they can be slid away. And this back here is obviously a mounting point for a rudder…"

It took some doing but they managed to fit out a single boat—though it was much larger than Harry remembered, easily large enough to hold eight people or more sitting two to a bench. Norbert, predictably, did _not_ like the gentle rocking motion of the boat. He growled and hissed and spat. Little sparks found their way through a crack in the crate followed by a thin wisp of smoke. How much worse was he going to be when they left the sheltered water of the harbor?

"Ready?" Hermione asked from the rear of the boat.

Harry nodded.

"Lines in?"

"Lines?" Harry asked.

She sighed. "The ropes. Ropes on ships are called lines."

"This isn't a ship," Harry said.

She glared at him.

Harry rolled his eyes and climbed back out to undo the rope that secured the back end of the boat which he dumped onto Hermione's lap. She squealed in outrage as he did the same with the rope at the front end before climbing in again.

"Ropes in," he said.

She glared at him, then tapped the boat and it began to drift away from the dock. The dark glassine water of the cave-harbor rippled as the boat cut through it towards the cut in the cliff that led out into the lake.

"Heads down," Armand said from where he was standing in the front.

Harry ducked, and looked up just in time to see the ghost cut in half by the rock face. For a moment there were a pair of legs and a rapier that ended in the roof, then they rippled as the boat went through the ivy and they were out onto the lake.

"Port your rudder, MiLady," Armand said.

Harry turned back to see Hermione throw the pole—tiller, he reminded himself—that was attached to the rudder to the right. The small boat cut to the left, and Hermione straightened it so that the boat was gently gliding along the base of the cliff that Hogwarts was perched on top of.

"I hope no one is looking this way," Hermione said. The boat was far too large to cover with Harry's cloak.

"Slow down…stop, turn here, MiLady," Armand called.

There was a wall of stone without even the ivy of the harbor.

"MiLady?" the ghost asked. "The turn to the Water Gate!"

"But it's solid stone!" Hermione protested.

"It's only pretending," the ghost assured them. "Even if it feels solid as rock. You must turn here and pass through the stone into the passage that leads to the Gate."

Reluctantly Harry nodded to Hermione to do as the ghost said.

Hermione didn't like it, but she didn't seem to have any better idea.

Harry reached out past the ghost. The wall felt solid as Hermione turned the boat into it. The front of the boat disappeared into the rock, his hand was pushed back. Harry quickly closed his eyes, and put up his arms, expecting to be slammed into the wall and thrown into the water. Instead there was a cool sensation, then he was past it. The air around him was suddenly warm, moist, and fetid.

He opened his eyes. They were in an underground passage. A giant brick arch rose from the waters on one side, passed over them, and disappeared into the other. Something green and black and slimy-looking grew on the bricks. Light came from occasional sky-lights set in deep iron-barred shafts, and by torches set in metal holders on either side of the channel.

Out of the gloom loomed a giant grid.

No, not a grid, Harry realized a moment later. A metal grating of some kind that blocked the channel. "The Water Gate?" he asked.

"Aye, young Master, a part of it," Armand said. "The whole of this passage is the Water Gate."

The boat slowed to a stop.

"How do we get past it?" Hermione asked.

No sooner had she spoken than there was a scream of rusting-metal-on-metal and the gate began to lift portcullis-like from the water. The parts that had been under water, Harry saw, were even fouler than the walls. The only thing missing from the horror-movie feel was that there was no skeleton pinned to it.

The portcullis slid up out of sight and the boat continued. Harry saw landings, little more than shelf-like ledges with iron-bound doors set into recesses, on either side. "Why can't we land there?"

"Those are the prisons," Armand said softly. "Reserved for traitors and the most dangerous of criminals. Hogwarts is not just a school, young Master, but a Bastion of Magic. A Fortress in times of peril. A Stronghold most potent. It has more than just magical defenses. The dungeons yon doors lead to connect to none of the school's basements."

"Were they ever used?" Hermione asked.

The ghost turned, "That is no question a lady such as thyself should be asking, MiLady."

"Yet I do ask," Hermione said stiffly.

The ghost turned away. "Aye, they have been used. Poor wretches, not that they didn't deserve it."

There was a boom and a splash from behind them and a moment later the boat was bounced on small waves.

"Get out the oars, beyond the second portcullis the boats do not guide themselves."

Harry and Hermione got their oars, carefully set along the insides of the boat for just this moment, oat. There was another scream of rusting metal and a second gate lifted out of the water. They floated through and half-way past the gate they stopped.

Harry dropped his oars in the water, the handles were about level with his head, and he pulled them towards him. They swept out of the water with a splash just as Hermione put hers in the water and for a moment they were locked together.

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "Drop your oars, that is, push them up so I can go past."

Harry pushed his handles upwards and the boat went forward slightly as Hermione pulled.

"Okay, now push yours back and—"

The boat went backwards.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"You said push," Harry protested.

"You have to take your oars out of the water first!"

"Well you didn't say that!"

Hermione made a sound much like Norbert. "Lift and push."

Harry started to lift his handles, but that made the oar-blades go down so instead he pushed them down and away.

In front of him Hermione mimicked the move much more smoothly. "Okay, now drop them and pull…" They went forward this time, enough to clear the gate. "Again, lift and push…drop and pull… "

With Hermione's coaching and calling the strokes they were able to resume their passage at a very slow pace.

"Thou wilt have to do better or the sea shall surely smash thee upon the rocks," Armand said.

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. "I'm going to be killed by the sea the first time I see it."

"You've never been to the ocean before?" Hermione asked. "Harry, you live on an island. How can you have never seen the sea before?"

"I…just never went." Harry said awkwardly. "The Dursleys didn't like it."

"What about school trips?" Hermione asked. "You said you lived with muggles, right?"

"I…er…I didn't go on any."

"But—"

"Hermione," Harry said sharply, "just…leave it alone."

"Fine," she huffed.

"Pull lively now, thou art nearly at the end and it won't do to have the sea sweep thee back upon the rocky cliffs."

They pulled, slowly, Hermione calling the movements which at least kept them from locking oars again. Harry's arms quickly got tired and the strokes weren't all that crisp, the right oar kept entering the water first and he could pull it further than the left. Hermione used her legs to move the rudder, but she too had lost most of her control of it.

A cool sensation hit Harry and before he realized it they were through the passage. Almost immediately the bow, behind where he sat, dipped and he turned to look over his shoulder as the receding water came back at them in a wave. The boat rode up it, and over with a splash that soaked Harry in a spray of sea water.

"Pull Harry!"

Somehow, he wasn't sure how, they maneuvered the boat with a very angry Norbert along the cliff face. A few times they almost struck it and Harry and Hermione were forced to fend it off with their oars. Both were quickly soaked by the freezing spray, but they managed to reach the shelf-like platform that was the landing of the sea-stairs.

It wasn't very high, maybe a foot or two above the waves and from the markings on the cliff it'd be under water when the water rose, but seated in the boat it was effectively impossible to climb up without risk losing your balance. Fortunately there was a ladder and Hermione scrambled up it while Harry tried to keep the boat from being swept out to sea or shattered on the rocks. She tied them off, and with Harry lifting and her pulling they managed to get Norbert up on the platform

"We can't leave this here," Hermione said.

"We'll come back for it," Harry said, making sure his cloak was still tucked in his belt.

"Where to now?" Hermione asked the ghost.

"The Sea Stairs, MiLady." The ghost gestured to a set of very narrow stairs that were carved out of the cliff-face. They were very high and very narrow and there was no railing at all. A single miss-step would send them falling into the sea, or onto one of the rocks in front of the cliff. "There is a chamber above yon stair, large enough to stow thy vessel if thou wish."

"How do we get it up?" Harry asked.

"We'll have to relay levitation charms, I think," Hermione said. "One of us levitates while the other climbs."

"Can we actually do that?" Harry asked.

"I can't think of why not," Hermione said after a moment. "We'll have to drop ours so that the other person has full control. If you levitate first, wait for me to say that I have it before you end your spell."

"Okay," Harry said, "and if we do that it means we can put Norbert back in the boat and levitate him."

"But—"

"Hermione," Harry said. "Do you really want to try carrying him up these stairs?"

Hermione looked at the Sea Stairs which were so narrow Harry wanted to go up them sideways hugging the cliff, so high that it made Harry think of pictures of mountain climbers with fancy harnesses and miles of rope, and were slick with spray.

\|/\|/\|/

The heavy doors at the top of the Stairs slammed shut behind Harry and his robes, which had been cold and wet and quite heavy, were instantly dried. Hermione, who had been holding the boat under the levitation charm, set it down.

"Where do you think we are?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione said, "it _looks_ like some sort of boat-house. Either that or a model museum."

Harry could only nod in agreement. There were racks with rowboats and canoes and kayaks and surfboards and other small water craft on each of the walls. Taking up places on the floor were large model boats. There were wooden sailing ships that had sides as high as Harry was tall, and bundles of poles next to them which he thought might be their masts. Several were even taller, including one that had no less than three decks of miniature antique cannon studding its flanks.

"Father would love this," Hermione said. "I think this one is supposed to be the _Mary Rose_."

"I thought he was into trains," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "He likes miniatures of all kinds. Boats, trains, aero-planes. Mum told him he had to pick one a few years ago." She turned to Harry. "Which tower were you planning to use?"

"One of the abandoned ones," Harry said. "I'm not sure if it has a proper name." He looked out through a window set next to the doors. In the sea beyond the Sea Stairs then sun had slipped below the horizon. "Time to get moving again, I suppose."

Hermione closed the doors and Harry looked around, but the ghost of Sir Armand Delaney was gone. He spread the cloak over the crate, then he and Hermione ducked under the cloak as well, lifted the crate, and slipped out into the halls of Hogwarts.

\|/\|/\|/

How they managed to make it passed the teachers, Prefects, magical law enforcement patrol, and magical animal control officers Harry would never be able to recall. The next hours were reduced to a series of snapshots. Ducking into unused classrooms as Prefects or more Ministry people walked past, and muscling the crate through narrow secret passages and up flights of stairs. A team of four robed wizards marched down a hall and they used levitation charms to lift a suit of armor over a balcony to distract them. Norbert would hiss and growl and struggle in his crate and they would slip into an alcove behind a tapestry as Prefects came running.

If that wasn't bad enough, the room with the boats let out in a section of the castle Harry had never seen before. Harry and Hermione wandered through a maze of passages, the crate growing heavier and heavier, for what seemed like hours before they a hallway near the charms corridor that they recognized.

"Where are we going, Harry?" Hermione hissed as he led her through a series of galleries.

"Tower," Harry panted. "This is a tricky bit, close your eyes."

"You want me to _what_?"

"Close your eyes," Harry repeated from the front end of the crate. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Just…let me guide you. Trust me, this is the easiest way."

"But…" Hermione gave him a long look under the folds of the cloak. "Alright," she said.

Harry turned back to face forward and began to lead her down the gallery to the door to the Tower of Turmoil.

All of a sudden there was a jerk from behind him, spilling them and Norbert to the floor.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione demanded.

"You have to close your eyes or this corridor turns you around," Harry said. There was a sound from somewhere behind them. "There isn't time to teach you how to get past it," he said quickly, "just trust me, close your eyes, and follow. _Please_, Hermione, don't ask now."

"Fine," Hermione hissed.

Harry threw the cloak over them again, picked up his end of the crate, and they nearly flew down the gallery.

"Can I open them now?" Hermione asked.

"Not yet," Harry said as he let go of the crate with one hand to frantically draw his wand. "Mellon."

The door clicked and he opened it and pulled crate and Hermione into the tower.

"Put the crate down for a second."

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Need to reposition my grip," Harry said, reaching past her and pushing the door closed.

"That was a door," Hermione said.

"And now we have some stairs," Harry said. "You can open your eyes now."

Hermione looked around. "I don't recognize this place."

Harry shrugged. "Let's go."

Allie had closed all of the doors and likely locked them. Even if she had been curious Hermione likely wouldn't have stopped for the Clock Tower began to toll midnight.

Getting Norbert's long crate up the narrow iron staircase was the hardest thing they had done all night, but at last they were in the Library.

Harry and Hermione shucked the cloak and set the crate down. Hermione stared in wonder at the bookcases lining the circular room until Harry extinguished the lights.

"Hey!" she protested.

"We don't want anyone to see us," Harry said.

"Oh." Then, "wait, how are they going to get Norbert? This is a closed room!"

In the darkness Harry smirked. "Open Sesame!" he cried while manipulating the brass device that controlled the observatory. A section of the tower roof slid to the side, then the entire room began to slowly spin until the open section was pointing away from the rest of Hogwarts. Lanterns had already had been hung and it didn't take more than a flick of his wand before red and blue lights offered a dim illumination to the room.

"Oh _wow_," Hermione said. "This is a lot more than some abandoned tower, Harry."

"Well…it _was_ an abandoned tower…at one point," Harry said. "Now it is the Tower of Turmoil."

In the darkened library Hermione shot around to stare at him.

"Don't tell me you don't have it figured out," Harry said.

"Oh fine," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea how much _trouble_ you'd be in if the Professors knew?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, then realized she couldn't see it in the dim light. "And?" he asked.

"Which one are you?" she asked at last.

"The Baron of Banality," he said dryly.

"Who else?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not telling, but you can probably figure most of them out," he conceded with a sigh.

Hermione didn't reply right away. "We can discuss that later," she said at length.

"I thought you would've wanted to know right now," Harry said.

"I do, but there are people on brooms coming this way."

Four figures on broomsticks came swooping in.

"Ron?" one asked.

"No names," Harry said. "Isn't that the way these things are usually done?"

"Wouldn't know, I've never smuggled anything before," he said cheerfully. "Where's the dragon?"

"Give me a moment," Harry said. "Is everyone in?"

"Yes, why?"

Harry manipulated the device, causing the ceiling to slide closed. A wave of his hand caused a number of candles scattered around the room to light up. Not enough to ruin their darkness-adapted eyesight, but enough to provide a little light to see by.

"Thanks," one of Charlie's friends said.

"The dragon," Hermione said, gesturing towards the crate that Norbert was thrashing around in. "Norwegian Ridgeback, answers to Norbert…as much as it answers to anything."

They chuckled.

They had a harness that could be attached to their brooms so that the crate hung suspended from all of them. Harry and Hermione helped them buckle Norbert's crate safely in it. They all shook hands and thanked each other very much. A Norwegian Ridgeback would be _most_ welcome at the dragon reserve and Norbert was _most_ welcome to leave before he got anyone in trouble. Harry warned them again about the Ministry and they assured him and Hermione that the Ministry wasn't a problem, the DMLE broom corps had been axed in the latest round of budget cuts. They all shook hands again and then Harry doused the candles and opened the roof again. Charlie's friends took off with Norbert's crate hanging suspended from their brooms.

Harry cycled the door closed again and returned normal illumination to the Library. Hermione obviously wanted to stay, but it was after midnight. They skipped down the stairs Norbert's leaving was like a giant weight lifted from them.

A shadow detached itself from a wall as they walked down a hall near the transfiguration classroom. Filch loomed over them in the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he said, "we _are_ in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak in the tower.


	21. Chapter 21: Aftermath

**Chapter 21: Aftermath**

"Laws _too gentle_ are seldom _obeyed_;  
_Too severe_, seldom _executed_."  
-Benjamin Franklin-

\|/\|/\|/

McGonagall's office on the first floor was already brightly let when Filch dragged Harry and Hermione inside.

"_Another_ two students out of bed?" she asked before Filch could say anything. "Did the school day start early today and I was misinformed?

"Sit," she said coldly.

Harry looked around, but there were no chairs available. Padma and Parvati sat together in two and Allie had a third in front of McGonagall's desk while Malfoy lounged confidently near the door. Wizards and witches in Ministry robes filled the room which he was sure had been magically expanded to fit them all.

"Caught 'em wandering the corridors, I did," Filch said.

"Not in the Astronomy Tower, then?" one of the Ministry wizards asked.

"No," Filch said flatly.

"They were there. They had to be!" Malfoy said, springing up.

"Sit _down_, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. She turned to the Ministry wizard. "As you can see, this is an internal matter, not a criminal one."

"We have evidence…"

"_I_ have proof!" Malfoy cried. He reached into his robe pocket and came out with a scrap of parchment. "I tried to tell you, Professor. They really do have a dragon, or at least they did."

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "I assure you, evidence or no, you are in quite enough trouble as it is for being out of your bed at this time in the morning. If you wish to find yourself in further trouble, then by all means, keep digging."

"Let me see that," one of the law enforcement patrol members said. He snatched the parchment up from Malfoy and began to read it.

Harry traded looks with his friends. The letter! But there was no way to get it back, no way to explain it.

"Which one of you is Ron?" he asked.

"Ronald Weasley is in the hospital wing," McGonagall said severely.

"Does he know someone named 'Charlie', ma'am?"

"His older brother," McGonagall said tightly.

"His older brother who works with dragons!" Malfoy said.

"And you, girl, are you friends with him?" he asked Allie.

"First," Allie said coolly. "My name is Elissa Blackthorn, not 'girl'. You may address me as Ms. Blackthorn."

"Answer the question."

Harry silently begged Allie to do just that rather than get herself into more trouble. But if she saw him or understood the message she ignored it for a moment, fixing the wizard with a frosty look before inclining her head slightly. "Ronald Weasley is a bigoted, opinionated little nit with an inflated sense of himself who doesn't like me because I'm in Slytherin. No, we are not friends…but we do have friends in common."

"Friends good enough to get you to illegally transfer a dragon for him?"

Allie surprised everyone in the room by laughing. "A dragon? Seriously? That's funny."

The wizard frowned. "You were found on top of the Astronomy Tower, at midnight, with a signal lantern."

Harry winced, the Astronomy Tower was strictly out-of-bounds except for classes.

"I have chronic insomnia so I thought I'd do a little astronomy revision," Allie said.

"And the signal lantern?" the wizard asked skeptically.

"I needed something to see by. The corridors are quite dark at this time of night."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"Me, sir? Never."

Harry heard a soft cough and glanced at McGonagall just in time to see her lifting her hand from her mouth.

"Why not use wand-light? If I remember correctly the charm would have been taught to you by now."

"I never did manage to get it to work correctly," Allie said. "Would you like me to demonstrate?" She started to lift her wand to point it at Malfoy.

"No!" McGonagall said, standing up as Malfoy took one look at Allie's wand and dived from his chair. "That…will not be necessary," McGonagall said.

The wizard looked at her, then at Malfoy who was sprawled on the ground before turning to Allie.

"Can't you at least stay on your chair, Malfoy? You're disgracing our House before the Puff," Allie said scathingly with a jerk of her head towards Harry who quickly had to smother a laugh of his own as Malfoy glared at him.

"I was in Hufflepuff," the wizard said.

"Congratulations," Allie said, "you can see what I have to put up with. As for my wand, it has a fwooper feather core. It can be a little unpredictable."

"I…see," he said slowly. "This letter, however, is pretty conclusive. You have a nice story but unless you have someone who can support your version of events…"

Harry started to speak up, but Hermione elbowed him in the side. Harry turned to her and she looked pointedly at Allie, then flicked her eyes at first the Ministry wizard, then Professor McGonagall. Both were watching the Slytherin with rapt gazes. He turned back to Hermione and nodded slightly. For now she had the attention of everyone in the room and they had been all but forgotten.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Allie was saying to the hatch-faced witch who was now examining the note, "but could I see that note for a moment?"

The witch turned to Allie with a sour expression. "You have something to confess, girl?"

Harry could see the fire that blazed in her eyes, but this time she didn't correct it. "I won't know without seeing that letter," she said evenly.

The magical law-witch regarded her for a moment before passing her the letter.

"How did you get this, Draco?" Allie asked.

"That doesn't matter," Malfoy huffed.

"It might," Allie said. She turned to the wizard, "You see, sir, I received a letter just like this one while I was helping Ronald Weasley revise his potion notes as a favor for our mutual friend. I haven't been able to find it since. By the time it occurred to me that he may have grabbed it by mistake, thinking it was for him, he was in the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey wasn't allowing any visitors so I couldn't ask him."

"What does that have to do with this letter?" McGonagall demanded. "And why would you be getting a letter addressed to him from Charlie Weasley?"

"It's…complicated, Professor, but it wasn't addressed to Weasley and it certainly wasn't from his brother. You see, aside from lessons I spent the last year living in the muggle world. Master G thought it would be one of those 'good learning experiences' that Master-wizards of the old school like to inflict upon their apprentices," Allie said. "While I was doing that I got caught up in this game. It's sort of like being part of a theater production where the actors all know the basic plot of the play, but there is no script and instead all of the lines and characters are ad-libbed on the spot…if the production were done by mail, of course."

"You broke the _Secrecy Statues_?" one of the Ministry men demanded.

"Of course not!" Allie protested with eyes wide with unfeigned shock. "I set up an owl/muggle-post relay. The letters go to a specific place via the muggle-post, and then get transferred to an ordinary mail owl. When I send a reply I send the owl to the same address, and they forward it."

"But the letter specifically describes the Astronomy Tower and even says what species of dragon!" Malfoy said.

"Exactly," the law-wizard said.

"My character lives near a public observatory that is perched on a high hill. We've been calling it the 'Astronomy Tower' since before I came to Hogwarts. As for the dragon, if you notice the letter doesn't actually say 'dragon'. I rather suspect that she mixed up a Norwegian Lundehund with a Rhodesian Ridgeback; we've been using dog breeds to indicate various packages that our characters exchange so no one would get suspicious, see? But after the common breeds have all been used it can take some effort to find new ones and sometimes it can be hard to keep them straight."

It was all Harry could do not to gape at Allie. For every question she had an answer, and for every objection an explanation. It sounded bizarre, and he knew she just had to be lying, but it all sounded so maddeningly _reasonable_.

"What about Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asked.

"It isn't addressed to him, it's addressed to _Ron_," Allie said. "It's short for Veronica."

"You use 'Ron' as a nickname for Veronica?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked at her, and it took him a moment to realize that she was playing along with Allie's story.

"Let's hear _you_ try coming up with a good way of shortening Veronica, Granger," Allie said. She turned back to the wizard. "Ron, Veronica, is the name of my character. Actually in this case it's a person my character is pretending to be. It's a long and rather involved story. As for Charlie, it's short for Charlene. Her real name, the player I mean, is…Amanda though, I think, we don't exactly discuss our _real_ lives inside the game you understand. I think she lives somewhere in Devon judging by the postal marks."

"You don't even know where she lives?" this from the wizard from the disposal of dangerous creatures unit.

"She uses a post-office box," Allie said with a shrug. "So do I; that's where it gets routed to an owl. For all I know it could be forwarded from there. Why, she could even be another witch, I suppose, if she has it forwarded with owl-post. What I'd like to know is how Draco got his hands on my post."

"It wasn't her, it was Potter!" Malfoy said.

The wizard looked at Malfoy, then turned and looked at Harry and Hermione. His eyes did that little flick Harry was starting to expect from wizards and witches, the one that drifted up to his forehead to take in his scar before snapping back down to his eyes. "Were they caught near the Astronomy Tower?" he asked Filch.

"No," the Caretaker grunted unhappily.

"Was it near midnight?"

"Nearly one," Filch said.

"Hmm…well, I suppose it would have taken a little time to…harness the dragon or box it up or however they would have transported it," the wizard said. "But was their path on the way to their dorms from the Astronomy Tower?"

"Not unless they became exceptionally lost," Filch said.

"And you, Professor, said that this Ron fellow who is in the hospital wing has a brother named Charlie?"

"That is correct," she said coolly.

"In that case, I think that what most likely happened was that this Ron saw a letter that seemed to be from his brother and took it after his and…Ms. Blackthorn's study session, and Mr. Malfoy, upon seeing this letter, alerted the Ministry to what he thought was illegal activity."

"But…"

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy," the wizard said. "Be happy that I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. If I were to think that you had done this deliberately as a hoax or some form of prank you would be much more unhappy dealing with _me_, than you will be dealing with your Professors."

He turned back to McGonagall. "I think you're right, Professor McGonagall. This seems to be a purely internal Hogwarts matter. I'm sorry for the disturbance, but I did have to investigate."

"Certainly," she said tightly. "Perhaps if I had known about all of the evidence sooner we could have discovered the misunderstanding more quickly."

The wizard held up his hands slightly. "I just knew that there was some intercepted correspondence, Ma'am. I got the call right from the Minister's office."

"Hmph," McGonagall said.

That seemed to be the end of it. The Ministry people began to shuffle out of the room.

"Excuse me," Allie said. "My letter?"

"Of course," the wizard said, handing it over. He nodded one last time to McGonagall, then followed the others out of the room.

McGonagall all glared balefully at them for what seemed like forever. "Ministry investigations," she hissed. "_Studying_. In all of my years of teaching…_six_ students out of bed at one in the morning. _Disgraceful_. Ms. Granger, I thought you had more sense than this. All of you shall receive detentions—yes, you as well, Mr. Malfoy. _Nothing_ gives you the right to walk around the school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous—"

"With respect, Professor," Padma said. "Professor Dumbledore was most eloquent in his explanations about how _safe_ Hogwarts was when he came to visit over the winter holiday."

For a moment Harry thought McGonagall was going to explode. "Hogwarts is safe," she hissed, "for students who stay in their dormitories after curfew and don't go wandering about places that are forbidden."

"We were told that Padma was attacked in the hall adjacent to the forbidden corridor, Professor, not the forbidden corridor itself, Professor," Parvati said coldly. "A place she was forced to retreat to by the rising flood waters, which is rather different than 'wandering about places that are forbidden.'" She stood, "If Hogwarts isn't safe I think—"

"Sit _down_, Ms. Patil," McGonagall cut her off in a frigid voice, "before you make yourself appear even more ridiculous. Do you honestly think that the Headmaster, or the Professors, or even the Board of Governors, would allow Hogwarts to continue if it wasn't safe for the students here?"

"We wouldn't presume to understand the Headmaster's thought processes," Padma said, placing a hand on Parvati's knee. "And I fully realize that I am not objective where any…perceived danger may be. I also understand how the Headmaster, and his Deputy of course, may not be willing to share certain privileged information with a first year. I think my father, however, should be in a much better position to assess the true amount of danger to myself and my sister. I'll write him tomorrow and let him know what you said, thank you, Professor."

For a moment Harry thought McGonagall might explode, but at last she gave a short, choppy nod to Padma and turned on Allie.

"As for you," she said. "Madam Pomfrey is a fine medi-witch. You will report to her in the morning. If necessary she will provide you with a potion for your insomnia, which you _will_ take."

"The types of potions I need are proscribed for long-term use," Allie said.

"Regardless, you will see her and you will take whatever treatment she sees fit to assign," McGonagall said. "All of you will serve a detention. In addition your houses will lose fifty points."

"_Fifty_?" Malfoy demanded.

"Each!" McGonagall hissed.

Harry blinked. Against all expectations Gryffindor had quickly made up most of the points it had lost after the Weasley Twin incident. The sudden upswing fueled in part by manic effort on the part of Hermione, and in part by a few students who had recalled Harry's 'detention' for Quidditch. Harry didn't know all of the details, but there was something to the effect of them helping out around the castle in exchange for house points.

Filch seemed to be in two minds about it. On one hand he got students doing more and more of the things that he would have otherwise had to do. On the other, they were getting rewarded for doing it, something that did not sit well with him.

As a result, Slytherin was in the lead, but only by a narrow margin. Both houses' margin over Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was much larger, though. Hufflepuff was very narrowly edging out Ravenclaw, mostly thanks to the Quidditch wins. Or that's the way the points had been.

With two Slytherins and two Gryffindors in the room, those two houses had taken a much larger cut than Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Enough of a cut that Hufflepuff would now be leading in house points for the first time in student memory.

"You can't do that!" Malfoy shouted.

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall snapped.

"My father is on the Board of Governors," Malfoy hissed. "When he hears about this—"

"And _that_ will be an additional fifty for coercion and attempted extortion of a Professor," McGonagall said. "Would you care to make it an even two hundred from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy? No? Then get to bed. _Now!_"

\|/\|/\|/

When Hogwarts came down to breakfast the next morning, no one seemed to know what to make of the sudden change in points. Gryffindor was out of the lead, which they took hard. On the other hand both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had lost fifty points in one go, but had actually had ended up with better position for the House Cup despite the loss and Hufflepuff was leading in point totals for the first time in student memory. And in any case, Slytherin was the one House all the others wanted to see lose. Even if Gryffindor was no longer winning Slytherin had taken a dive that was insurmountable, not this late in the year without any Quidditch games left to them.

Everyone knew that Harry Potter had something to do with it, but nobody knew quite what that something was. The other Houses debated rumors, point totals, and the last remaining Quidditch game (Gryffindor/Ravenclaw). There were a lot of backhanded compliments offered to Harry by the other Hufflepuffs and Thrace gave him a stern injunction not to inflict his 'win through losing' tactic on future Hufflepuff teams. Through it all, however, Slytherin sat huddled and smug at their table.

The next morning the rest of the school found out why the Slytherins were so smug.

"Do you think it's possible to be re-Sorted?" Allie asked sitting down across from Harry.

Harry ripped his gaze away from where the Slytherin hourglass was filled with tiny emeralds. All of the points they had lost had been regained. Allie, he noticed immediately, was not wearing her house badge.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "You're not wearing your house badge."

"I ripped it off," she said.

"What about the points?" Susan asked.

"Malfoy's daddy came through for him," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.

"I thought you didn't care about points," Harry said.

"I don't," she said flatly. "But that little wretch used me, the points I lost, to game the system. I really dislike being used."

"What are you going to do about it?" Susan asked as Harry, Ernie and Justin crowded in closer.

Allie smiled coldly. "Do you happen to know anyone who is a fair hand at duplication charms and glamours?"

"Why?" Susan asked.

"Tell them I'll pay ten galleons for three hundred copies of this," Allie said, setting her house badge on the table. Ten golden coins followed. "A third of them need a glamour of the Hufflepuff house badge, the others split evenly between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. I'll need them by lunch. Find out if it's possible, but wait for my signal before starting production."

"Duplication without something to copy the original onto won't last long," Cedric said. "A couple of hours, a day, maybe."

"More than enough."

"What will the signal be?"

"You'll know it," Allie told Susan grimly. She put five sickles on the table. "In case it doesn't work, that's for…whoever's troubled. If it works they can consider it a bonus."

Susan nodded once, and quickly pocketed the money and the badge and left.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked. "Allie…don't get expelled."

"I'll try not to," Allie said. "Of course, people don't like it when you throw their hypocrisy in their face. I plan to shove it down their throats."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Justin asked.

"No," she said. "In fact I'm pretty sure that it's a terrible idea." She looked at him. "Your family probably has as much money as Malfoy does. Do you think you could get your father to buy you a couple of school Governors as an early birthday present?"

"No," Justin said. "He really doesn't like corruption or nepotism."

"Pity."

Susan came back as the owls started to arrive with the morning post. "It's set up, but they say that the duplicates won't last long."

"Allie," Harry said, "What are you going to do?"

"Malfoy is an arrogant, conceited little snot who is used to his father buying him whatever he wants," Allie said. "Watch your back, Harry. He took your refusal of his _gracious_ offer of friendship on the train back in September a bit personally. I'm simply a more immediate target since I'm in the same house as him."

She cocked her head and added thoughtfully. "I probably should have let him think that I didn't have a problem with killing him when he challenged me to that duel, but it's too late to change that."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I thought you didn't want to kill him."

"I don't, but _he_ didn't need to know that," she said. "I won't kowtow to him, and he thinks I don't want to hurt anyone so he's taking cheap shots at me that he thinks I can't or won't effectively answer. The real problem is he's right. I'm not good enough to curse him without risking serious injury, and while my grandmother is scary—"

"She doesn't support you," Harry finished. "Could you, I don't know, come up with some sort of bluff using her?"

"And what happens when he calls the bluff? She won't reverse points or send the Ministry after us like Draco's daddy will."

The Hufflepuffs traded looks.

"What are you going to do?" Justin asked at last.

"I can't answer him, not by the rules he's playing by, so it's time to change the rules. Listen, Harry, if I'm expelled—"

"You can't be," Harry said.

She raised an eyebrow.

"You won't," Harry insisted. "Dumbledore needs me at this school for some reason."

"Don't piss him off, Harry," Allie said, toying with the front of her robes. "For one, he's been living a lot longer than us. For another, he's a really powerful wizard. You try to contend with him directly and you'll lose. And now I have to go or breakfast will be over."

"Allie, wait!"

But it was too late. She had already stood and was heading for the High Table.

"What do you think she's going to do?" Susan asked.

"Maybe ask to have those points taken away again," Harry said. "But I can't think of what she'd need to badges for…unless she was going to invite everyone to join Slytherin House."

Justin and Ernie traded grimaces and Susan looked disgusted at the idea.

"Allie might not be so bad," Susan said. "But share a room with Pansy? Ugh."

Harry nodded. "The thing is, if that was her plan, why the glamour?"

The Hall fell silent as people noticed her walking towards the Head Table.

"Can we help you, Ms. Thorne?" Dumbledore asked, his voice pitched so all of the Great Hall heard it.

"I've heard a number of rumors," Allie asked. "So I just wanted to know what Slytherin had done to earn a hundred fifty points over night."

"Those points were part of a bookkeeping error, Ms. Thorne," Dumbledore said levelly.

"Bookkeeping error?" she repeated. "How does one make a bookkeeping error, Headmaster, when points are tracked with gems in sealed hourglasses? Are these…_magic_ points? Do they simply appear out of thin air?"

"Five points from Slytherin for your tone, Ms. Blackthorn," McGonagall said.

Eyes turned, but not one emerald left the Slytherin hourglass.

She turned back to them and asked something that Harry couldn't hear from his seat. Whatever the reply was, however, it was clearly not satisfactory.

Allie turned to face the Great Hall. "A couple of nights ago I was caught wandering the halls after curfew," she told them. "Professor McGonagall took fifty points from Slytherin and gave me a detention. Fairly deserved, I admit it. When I was in her office, Draco Malfoy was there as well. He had some story about a dragon being loose in the halls and Harry Potter sneaking it out of the castle."

"There was a dragon!" Malfoy shouted, standing up.

"Which was why you contacted your father, and he dropped a bag of galleons on the Minister's desk, and _he_ sent a team from the DMLE and the DRCMC to come to Hogwarts yesterday. I hate to disappoint, but they didn't find a dragon, Malfoy. They didn't even find evidence of a dragon. But you went screaming 'dragon' up and down the halls in the middle of the night so you got a detention and lost fifty points like the rest of us—"

"I did not!"

"—and then lost _another_ fifty when you tried to use your father's position on the Board of Governors to extort Professor McGonagall to return the points with the implication that she'd face being sacked if she didn't."

The Hall was silent. Professor McGonagall, who had started to stand, sat down heavily in her chair, her face gone a pasty-white, and Professor Sprout was quivering with outrage. The rest of the Great Hall was equally shocked. A student, a _Slytherin_, admitting before the entire school that they had _deserved_ to lose fifty points? The same Slytherin accusing another of threatening a teacher? Everyone knew that Slytherins were supposed to be cunning, but to use family so blatantly to get what you were after? And _then_ have someone get up before the whole school and call you on it? Things like this just weren't done. The way Allie described it wasn't exactly how Harry remembered things, but it was close and if Malfoy hadn't said anything at all about her being sacked, well, it was implied rather than spoken aloud. Right?

"Ms. Blackthorn," Snape said in a rasp. For a moment he stopped there, then he did something that no one thought he would ever do. "For your slanderous comments—"

"I've got witnesses, Professor, four or five of them," Allie said.

"—I am deducting twenty points from Slytherin "

Eyes shot across the Hall. The gems in the Slytherin hourglass remained stubbornly still.

"It seems your hourglass is broken, Professor," Allie said dryly.

Harry reached for his wand as Snape started to stand, but Dumbledore put a hand on the younger Professor's shoulder and stood himself.

"Ms. Blackthorn," Dumbledore said. "This is unbecoming of a Hogwarts student and a member of Slytherin House."

"I prize cunning and ambition, Headmaster," Allie said, her voice pitched so the entire Hall could hear her side of the conversation. "It goes with the House. Had Draco come up with some ambitious project to make up the points I would have been first in line behind him to push."

"I doubt it," Harry muttered. Except to push him over a cliff or off one of the towers, maybe, he thought, although Allie didn't resort to physical violence. Or at least she hadn't yet.

"Shh," Susan hissed.

"She's going to get herself expelled for sure."

"Certainly the Gryffs have shown themselves capable of that much. They've managed to make up nearly a hundred-point loss in less than, what, two weeks? Well done," she clapped lightly.

"Had he come up with some clever ploy to win the points back or wrest the House Cup from the rest of the Houses I would have cheered as much as any other Slytherin. Well…in all likelihood I would have cheered more, but that's neither here nor there. Instead he went whining to daddy."

She paused to let that sink in, but only for a moment.

"Personally," she continued, "I could care less about the points. If he had only had his hundred-point deduction reversed I wouldn't have cared. But he also got the fifty that I've admitted that Professor McGonagall was right to take. In doing so he involved _me_ in this…disgraceful childish scheme, and the staff let him get away with it," her tone dripped with contempt.

She turned and addressed the Hall again. "So going on sale in the Entrance Hall after lunch, for two knuts a piece, are point-blockers. As long as you have one on your robes, no points can be taken from your House."

With that she walked down the Hall between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. The doors of the Great Hall slammed closed behind her.

\|/\|/\|/

A bronze and blue badge hit the table and skidded down its length to come to a rest in front of Professor Flitwick who began to examine it.

"What is it?" Albus asked the diminutive charms professor.

"It appears to be a Ravenclaw house badge," Flitwick said idly.

"Exactly," Vector said. "It _appears_ to be."

"What do you mean?" Albus asked, turning to the Master Arithmancer.

"_That_," Vector said, "is what happened to the points system and why Slytherin now stands at a negative one hundred and twelve points."

"It is hardly a topic for amusement," Severus said.

"Personally, I find it bloody hilarious," said the only other Slytherin professor.

"Language," McGonagall said severely.

"You would have done better in Hufflepuff with an attitude like that," Severus retorted. "And you wonder why the Headmaster made me Head of Slytherin."

"Hufflepuff? Really, is that the best you can do?" Vector asked scornfully. "A Hufflepuff could have come up with something better than that ham-handed way Malfoy made up the points. And after the last incident between him and Ms. Blackthorn you should have _known_ that restoring the points she lost to disadvantage the other Houses would only infuriate her. Or did you know, and were so contemptuous of her that you didn't think she'd find a way to respond?"

"Enough," Albus Dumbledore said. Septima and Severus were the only two alumni of Slytherin House on staff and had very different views on how it should have been run. It didn't help that Septima had fully and rightly expected to be named Head of Slytherin before Severus had become the Potions Maser and the need for him to have close access to the children of his former Master's followers. Most of the arguments had been left in the past and the two tolerated each other with an icy sort of formality, but explosions still occasionally erupted.

Unfortunately, Albus thought, in this case Septima was right. Even if Ms. Thorne hadn't retaliated, the consequences of allowing Mr. Malfoy the kind of power he had just demonstrated would be catastrophic for the other students. That Lucius Malfoy had convinced the other Governors that the punishment was 'excessive' and 'clearly biased' didn't help.

"You have analyzed it?" Albus asked. "Then please, tell us how it works."

"It works like any other house badge, really," Vector said. "It's a duplicated Slytherin badge with an illusion or glamour covering it up. I'm betting glamour."

"Why do you think that?" Filius asked, examining the badge.

"Because I think that whoever duplicated this didn't know what they were duplicating," Vector said. "If she's as skilled with runes and arithmancy as you suggested, Albus, then she could have come up with something that would have made the duplicator not notice what he or she was duplicating. A glamour could have been applied to a duplicate badge with no one the wiser, an illusion—"

"Would have collapsed the effect. It could be applied to the duplicated object, but would not transfer from the object being duplicated the way a glamour would," Filius nodded slowly.

"Correct. If someone has their normal badge on, the points work properly. If they have this one on, all of the deductions, and additions, affect Slytherin's points instead."

"Surely they can't be that simple," McGonagall said. "The point system is tied into the wards themselves. That should be far beyond the capability of any student to affect."

"No," Vector said, "they aren't. Look, Minerva, there is an annoying tendency for people to use one term to describe multiple effects. Technically a ward is any and _only_ defensive magic that is both non-mobile _and_ intended to protect a specific place or area on permanent or, _perhaps_, semi-permanent basis. But we've taken to using the term 'ward' to apply to any area-specific defensive magic regardless of permanency or mobility, and even extended the term to cover virtually any continuous field-effect magic."

"Your point being?" McGonagall asked testily.

"I've done some experimenting. Did you know that you don't need to say what house you're giving or taking points from as long as you name the student? You don't even need to say what the points are for, except that point additions and deductions are logged for behavior-tracking reasons."

"No," she said.

Albus frowned slightly as Minerva turned to him.

"Surely that can't be correct, Albus."

"I admit it is not something to which I have previously given a great deal of thought," Dumbledore said mildly. "What happens in the case of siblings?"

Vector shrugged. "Unless you have twins you aren't likely to have a pair in the same class, are you? The Weasleys are both Gryffindors. I haven't had the Patils in my class yet, of course, but it would be a logical assumption that in their case you'd have to specify either which girl, or which House, the points would be going to or coming from. That would be the exception that proves the rule, really.

"As for the rest of your objection, Minerva, why can't it be just that simple? As far as points are concerned the badges are linked to the hourglasses. You say a person's name and the change in the number of points, that person's badge forwards the change to the hourglass linked to that badge. As far as points are concerned, each of the 'point blockers' Ms. Blackthorn sold are really just glamoured copies of the Slytherin house badge. That's all there is to it, really, simple and straightforward.

"The badges won't last long, and you'd be better able to predict that than I. But as you surmised, no, the higher level magics such as the enchantments on the badges that _do_ interact with the wards, are not duplicated. I'm not certain that any of the functions other than the point-system were duplicated. Probably not since I suspect that these are actually copies made from a copy of her own house badge."

"Thank you, Septima," Albus said. He adjusted himself in his chair, it was a trifle high, and he made a mental note to find out what a 'Poobah' was and what a 'Grand High' one did. "And now let us consider how best to deal with this situation."

"We can start by expelling Blackthorn," Severus said. "Potter too, he most likely provided the support to create the things. She certainly does not have the capability to do so."

"Expulsion is a drastic step—" Albus began,

"And one that I will certainly object to taking in regards to Harry," Pomona said sharply

"And each case is reviewed before the Board of Governors," Albus finished. "I think Ms. Thorne meeting with them is something best avoided."

"We wait a suitable period of time to make certain that the fraudulent badges have decoalesced and then reset the points to what they were this morning," Minerva said. "I doubt they can last for very long."

"Impractical and wouldn't address the problem, unless you want to take back the fifty from Ms. Blackthorn and admit that what she said this morning was the truth," Pomona said.

Not unexpected, Albus thought. Only Minerva and Severus had been in on his discussion with the Governors about the points. The others had been informed of the magic on the hourglasses breaking down and that the 'bookkeeping error' in Slytherin had been what tipped them off to it. The realization of just what had happened had come as a nasty shock and she had been more than a little unhappy with him over his decision.

"We'd have to wait at least another day before we could start using the point system again. More to the point, if you didn't admit what the Governors did, it would leave us with the same situation that sparked Ms. Blackthorn to act this way. Whatever Severus feels aside, at least _you_ Minerva should sympathize! To be threatened like that—"

"Mr. Malfoy did not threaten me," Minerva said. "He merely bluffed that his father could place pressure upon the board and staff."

"Pressure?" Pomona nearly shouted. "_Pressure_?" this time she did shout. "You caved in less than two days! And then to reverse only the points lost by Slytherin? The girl was _right_, Minerva. The whole thing really is a disgrace!"

"There are other ways, better ways, that the situation could have been resolved," Minerva agreed stiffly.

"Such as appealing to the Board of Governors?" Pomona asked scathingly.

"I'm not sure what we _can_ do other than reset the points to what they were prior to the night before last," Filius said.

"And destroy our authority in the process," Pomona said. "You've let the entire school know that that Malfoy boy can adjust the points whenever he wants. All he has to do is call his father. That even justly taken points can be returned; as though it weren't bad enough the way you let Severus take points for _breathing_, Albus. And by now everyone has figured out that Ms. Blackthorn has figured out a way of manipulating the points. Or at least found a way of manipulating us to manipulate the points."

"After the way Mr. Potter manipulated Minerva into giving Hufflepuff the lead?" Severus asked. "A story about a dragon. Forged correspondence—you know as well as I that Blackthorn lied through her teeth about that letter. It just so happened that all of the people he regularly eats with were out in the halls after curfew. The way Draco was goaded into losing a hundred points on his own. And the whole of it timed so that Slytherin had no more Quidditch games in which to help make up the loss."

The Herbology professor was usually very easy going and of all of the Professors gave him the least trouble, but Albus could see she had built up a good head of steam and was well on her way to a truly terrific explosion.

"Wait." Albus turned to Professor Vector as the arithmancy professor cut in before Pomona could let loose. "Severus, you mean to tell us that you believe Harry Potter, whom you have frequently spoken about concerning his troubles in your class, planned, set in motion, and executed a plot to lose over three hundred points spread amongst all four of the Houses, including sabotaging the commanding position of two, all in an effort to make certain Slytherin loses the House Cup?

"_Including_—" she cut in as Severus started to speak "—getting Hagrid to slaughter a large number of chickens and order several casks of Old Tillman brandy and planting a letter for Mr. Malfoy to acquire—which he did by stealing another student's textbook, a matter I notice that has not been addressed. And you expect us to believe that he got two of the most studious students in his year to go along with it—including Ms. Granger who is the sole student in the first year how has yet to break even a minor rule. And in addition he convinced Ms. Blackthorn, who has spoken openly and disdainfully of the house point system, to go along with this as well?"

"Thank you, Septima, that will quite do," Albus said mildly. "I for one do not believe Mr. Potter planned any such thing. However, arguing about how we can to be in this situation will not alter the situation. And so the Chair will entertain suggestions for where we should go from here."

"The simplest solution would be to reset the points to zero," Charity said unexpectedly, she didn't usually speak up at these meetings.

Pomona shook her head, "as Severus points out there is only one Quidditch game left. Unless you wanted to discount the points from that game…"

Not unexpected, fair play was a Hufflepuff value. Equally unsurprising was Minerva's reluctance to discount Quidditch towards the House Cup.

Albus sat back in his chair to quietly observe.

Charity, usually another quiet one, noted: "Well, we can't simply reset the points to what they were two days ago, yesterday morning, or this morning. One undercuts our authority, the second would bring the Governors back into it, and the last is intolerable."

"We could recount the points deducted and awarded today," Severus said. "There are records. It would be tedious but straightforward to correct the injustice to Slytherin."

"Certainly, if Slytherin were to forfeit the one hundred and fifty points awarded to that 'bookkeeping error," Minerva said acidly.

"Outrageous," Severus hissed.

"Perhaps a compromise," Filius said. "We reset the points to what they were yesterday morning, and then award Ms. Blackthorn some points for taking a stand on a moral issue?"

"_Award_ points? Filius, she's upset because we _gave points back to her_!"

"One hundred and fifty to Mr. Malfoy," Severus said instantly. "Potter may have the rest of you fooled, but there was a dragon on the grounds. Draco Malfoy's actions were…precipitous, and could have done with further thought, but he had only the best intentions and was motivated by concerns for the safety and welfare of his fellow students."

"Really, Severus?" Minerva asked acidly.

"No, hear me out," Filius said. "If we set them back to what they were yesterday morning, Slytherin would be down one hundred and fifty points of what they were the day prior. Then give Ms. Blackthorn fifty for taking…such a public stand on a difficult moral issue. If those are the only points awarded then it can't be said that her deduction was being used by Mr. Malfoy, it'd let the punishment for Mr. Malfoy's threats stand, it would set back the Governors so that they don't undermine us, _and_ it would leave Slytherin with the same overall deduction as Gryffindor which would be only fair as both Houses had two students out."

"Assuming of course that the Governors go along with it," Minerva said. "I doubt the Governors would appreciate you throwing in their face that a first year student used them to threaten a teacher."

"The only 'threats' were those that one teacher wanted to hear and so chose to interpret as harshly as possible ill-conceived words spoken in a moment of shock," Severus said. "The boy had just lost his house the lead, Minerva, what did you expect him to say?"

"Thank you for your input," Albus said before either Minerva or Pomona could rise to the challenge. "The points will be reset to this morning. At supper Ms. Blackthorn will be awarded thirty points for taking a public stand against something she felt was unfair. A further twenty points will be returned to Slytherin on appeal. Mr. Malfoy's words were ill-chosen in the extreme, the loss of points will reflect this. At the same time it is my belief that no malice was intended…this time. You will council Mr. Malfoy, Severus, to use more temperate language when addressing Professors in the future."

"You mean yesterday morning," Pomona said sternly.

"Hmm? Oh, yes of course," Albus agreed.

\|/\|/\|/

The Professors decision didn't really satisfy anyone. Allie had usually eaten one or two meals a day at her house table, now she didn't sit there for any and refused to wear her house badge. Malfoy's talk about what his father would do for him was bigger than ever, and Harry knew that more than a few people believed it. The Professors seemed to have come to some silent agreement, for as long as Snape didn't harass Allie about sitting at the other tables and not wearing her badge, the rest were more or less content to let Malfoy alone.

In the aftermath of the days followed, Snape became even nastier than usual. It had been a rare lesson that Harry had gotten through without any points being taken, but now Snape was taking ten points or more a lesson. Harry wasn't the only person in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw he was doing it to, but Harry was privately certain that the Potion Master wasn't stalking any of the others through the halls, taking points at every opportunity. Nor had Snape been satisfied with taking points. Ron reported that in his first lesson after being released from the hospital wing, Snape had given points to Goyle—who was almost at bad at Potions as Neville was, though less apt to make his cauldron explode—for showing 'acceptable effort', and gave Malfoy twenty points for his 'superior display of proper technique' of holding a stirring rod.

Harry's housemates rarely stood out in the way that garnered attention and points. Even with the deductions the Hufflepuff's had led Slytherin by less than sixty points. By the end of the day on Friday, the gap between Hufflepuff and Slytherin had shrunk to less than a dozen gems in the giant hourglasses that kept track of each House's standing and Ravenclaw had taken the lead while Hufflepuff edged out Gryffindor by a solitary point. Still, for three whole days they had led the school, something that hadn't happened since Susan's aunt had been a student.

That Saturday, Harry, dragging along a Ron fresh from the care of Madam Pomfrey, had led Hermione into the burrows, the twisting branching passages that led from the common room and the Hufflepuff sett proper out into Hogwarts proper. The halls had been lightly dusted with Peruvian instant-blackness powder. Only a trick rope Tonks had devised allowed him to find the way. One end was anchored at the Tower's door, while the other ended in a little wooden handle. The handle fitted on the rope, keeping it taut, and as they walked the rope disappeared behind them. Around and around and up and down the rope led them until they were all quite confused.

"What is this place?" Ron asked as Harry led them up past closed, and locked, doors.

"I know what this place is," Hermione said as they walked up into the main room. "This is the Tower of Turmoil, isn't it? You're part of the Hogwarts Lunatic Committee."

"The Hogwarts _what_?" Harry asked.

"Lunatic Committee," she said, blushing slightly.

"Hey, this sofa came from our common room!"

Harry and Hermione turned to where Ron was staring at the offending piece of furniture.

"Yes, Ron, it did," Harry said, walking over to Snape's former seat in the Staff Lounge. The man was a git, but he had good taste in comfortable furniture.

"Which one are you?" Hermione asked levelly. "I know you aren't the Baron of Banality, he wasn't one of the members listed."

"Oh, we have more members than those that were mentioned," Harry said airily. "But for your information, I am Janus, Master of Mayhem, et al, at your service," Harry said.

"But he's the head of the HLC!" Ron said. "He said so on Halloween!"

"Mmm hmm," Harry agreed. "I think it tickled the others' sense of the absurd."

"When you redirected that prank of Fred and George's onto the Professors, that was the HLC?" Hermione asked.

"More of an entry-prank for me," Harry said.

"What prank?"

"You remember, that one on the teachers that gave the women beards and all of them had striped hair?" Hermione asked. "I told you about following Parvati."

"Oh, yeah, that one," Ron said. He turned to Harry. "Why'd you ask us up here? Unless…"

He gave Harry an eager look. "You want to make us members."

"No," Harry said. "Not this year, Ron. There isn't time left to induct new members, bring them up to speed, and plan, formulate, and execute our next prank."

"Oh," Ron said unhappily. "Well, I suppose there's always next year."

"No there isn't," Hermione said slowly.

"Aw, Hermione," Ron groaned. "You aren't going to go off _again_ about the importance of schoolwork."

"No," she said. "But the Patils were along for more than just guards. Or, if they were at the time, they didn't stay that way, did they Harry?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "No, Hermione, they didn't."

"Those Hufflepuffs you hang out with, Justin and Ernie?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione hesitated, glancing at Ron, before asking, "Blackthorn?"

Harry nodded again.

"You mean you allowed that-that—_snake_ in before you even asked me!" Ron demanded, shooting to his feet.

"We were asked to join at the same time," Harry said. "Now sit down, Ron."

Ron glared at him, but he did sit down.

"I was planning on asking you both next year," Harry said. He had talked it over with the others already and only part of the reason he hadn't told them was to protect the secret. After Christmas, and the incident with the Mirror, he knew how much Ron wanted to stand out, and he knew Ron wasn't going to take hearing it well. "But Hermione is right. There are at least two good reasons for me not to. One of them is that you and Allie don't get along. Even during the past few weeks while we were trying to get rid of Norbert, unless Hermione or I was constantly reminding you about Hagrid, you'd snip at each other."

"The other problem is that most of the others are his friends," Hermione said softly.

"But so are _we_," Ron protested.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ron, _think_," Hermione snapped. "It's just like your chess strategy. You keep people occupied with your bishops and pawns so that they never notice your knights. If _all_ of Harry's friends started to disappear at the same time, and pranks seem to happen shortly thereafter, it'd be more likely that someone would notice. Right now it helps that they're scattered among all of the Houses. But if we came in it'd be three of us in Gryffindor. It'd be harder to hide, and a lot of their success is because no one knows who they are."

"I suppose that makes a little sense," Ron muttered. "So why'd you ask us up here?"

"Because Hermione already saw it," Harry said. "We used it as a meeting place for Charlie's friends to smuggle Norbert out."

"Oh," Ron said. "Hermione told me about what happened, but I hadn't figured out what this place was."

"Neither had I until he told me." Hermione said with a grimace at the admission.

"So," Harry said. "Who wants the five-knut tour?"


	22. Chapter 22: Shattered Dreams

**Chapter 22: Shattered Dreams**

_"Stay out of the Forest of the Old Gnarled Trees.  
They'll ignore all your shouts, nor listen to your pleas."  
-_-Dwayne Leon Rankin-

\|/\|/\|/

In the fervor of the sudden upset in the contest for the House Cup, Malfoy getting the changes reversed for Slytherin, Allie's retaliation, and the Professors' final decision on how to deal with the problem, Harry had completely forgot about the detentions. So the letter he received from Professor McGonagall one morning at breakfast about a week before exams came as something of a surprise.

Filch was already waiting in the Entrance Hall with Malfoy and Allie when he arrived.

"Allie," he said to his friend who was standing near Malfoy but had her arms crossed and looked very much like she'd prefer to be anywhere else.

"Harry," she said tersely.

Hermione and Parvati arrived next, trooping down the stairs that were the most direct route to Gryffindor Tower. Unexpectedly, Neville Longbottom followed after them.

"Harry," Hermione said, her expression chilled when she spotted Allie. "Blackthorn."

"Hermione."

"Granger. Parvati."

"Allie," Parvati said. "Harry."

"Parvati."

"Neville," Harry said. He'd seen the boy in the Great Hall and in doubles Herbology classes, but they'd rarely had a chance to speak. Now he looked up at Harry in surprise.

"H-Harry," Neville said, then, with only slightly more confidence, "Padma."

"Neville."

"That'll be enough of that," Filch growled.

They waited in silence for what seemed like ages but probably wasn't more than a minute or so before Padma arrived.

Filch lit a lantern and headed out the doors. "Follow me," he said as he was swallowed up by the night.

Harry and the others hurried after.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking school rules next time, eh?" the Caretaker asked. "Hard work," he said this with a kind of unholy reverence, adoration twisted his face. "Hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. Use the rod and beat the child…"

The adoration faded and a nighttime breeze caught a wistful sigh, "A pity that they let the old time punishments die out. I bet you lot wouldn't be tracking mud in the halls, or flinging curses in the corridors, or flinging your Fanged Frisbees around if I still had the power to hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days…"

He froze so suddenly that Harry, who had been following very close behind, almost ran into him and Parvati, who was hovering even closer to Padma than usual, actually had bumped into her sister. "God," Filch whispered with a kind of obscene mournful reverence, "I miss the screaming."

He continued on, and as they followed after he let the first years know: "I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled just in case."

Harry shivered, dropped to the back of the group, and nearly tripped. The moon was very bright and loomed overhead, still four or five days from being full, but dark clouds ghosting by in the sky scudded across it, throwing the grounds into deep shadows without even a moment's notice. He wondered where they were going, Filch seemed to be heading for Hagrid's hut—Harry could see its lighted window in the distance—but he couldn't think of what Hagrid would need all of them for in nearly the middle of the night. Nor could he think of what type of punishment Hagrid could have waiting for them. It must be terrible, Filch wouldn't be nearly so delighted if it weren't, but while Harry could well imagine Snape having something like that for them, this was _Hagrid_.

"Is that you, Filch?" Hagrid's voice boomed in the distance. "Hurry up. I want ter get started."

Well…maybe it wouldn't be too bad after all, Harry thought. If Filch was just assigned to be escorting them across the grounds, maybe he thought they were in for something worse than what Hagrid was going to have them do.

"I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourselves with that oaf?" Filch asked. "Well don't get your hopes up, boy—it's into the Forbidden Forest with you lot and I'll be very much mistaken if all of you will be returning in one piece."

Someone—Harry thought it was Padma but he wasn't sure—made a soft moan and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The Forest?" he asked, his voice a little higher and much less cool than usual. "We can't go in there at night—there's all sorts of…_things_ that live in there—werewolves I've heard."

Hermione scoffed. "_Werewolves?_ It's nearly a week past the full moon, Malfoy! Why else do you think Professor Sinistra had us doing lunar observations last week?"

Hagrid came striding out of the darkness. He carried his giant crossbow, a quiver of bolts for it, and Fang trotted along at his heels.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said. "They're here to be punished after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Hagrid asked with a frown. "Bin lecturin' them? 'Snot yer place, Filch. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"Then I shall return for them at dawn," Filch said. He gave Harry a nasty sideways look, "What's left of them anyway." He turned and stalked out into the night in the direction of the castle. His lantern bobbed and weaved in the darkness.

"I am _not_ going into that forest," Malfoy said, and Harry was happy to hear the panic in the other boy's voice.

"Yeh are if yer meanin' ter be stayin' at Hogwarts," Hagrid said furiously. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh'll be paying fer it."

"But this is servant work," Malfoy blustered, "this isn't the kind of thing that _proper_ students are supposed to be put to."

Harry wondered what Justin, whose family really did have hired servants, would have thought about that. Probably not a lot, he decided. He'd never really considered it before, but Justin seemed to regard his family's retainers—Justin's preferred word—as part of his extended family, which probably explained how he got along so easily with the others in Hufflepuff, pureblood and muggleborn, rich and poor, alike. Harry wasn't sure, with all that magic could do, if the Malfoys even _had_ servants, but he was certain that the other boy never would have regarded them as family.

"I thought we'd be copying lines or something," Malfoy was saying. "If my father knew that I was doing this, he'd—"

"Tell yeh that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid cut him off. "Copyin' lines, what rubbish. What good is that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle and pack. Go on!"

But Malfoy did not 'get on.' Instead he glared furiously at Hagrid, but after a moment he dropped his gaze.

"Right then" Hagrid said, but whatever else he was going to say was lost by a cry from Parvati.

"Look!"

Harry turned.

Ghostly, shimmering shapes moved in the fog-shrouded hollow at the edge of the forest. Then, as though someone had thrown back a curtain, the fog parted and the clouds cleared and moonlight lit the grounds. The grass was dark and lush with new growth, and the trees were not half-so foreboding as they had been scarce months before. Hogwarts' white stone walls gleamed like alabaster.

"Unicorns," Hermione said in a voice hush with wonder.

"Yeh," Hagrid whispered. "The herd's been restless."

"Wow," Parvati said as her sister nodded mutely.

Allie and Malfoy were quiet, and Harry took the time to observe the unicorns. They were about the size of normal horses if slightly on the small side. White feathery tufts of fur trailed above their hooves, and manes and tails flowed behind each as they ran back and forth. And each, on its forehead, bore a single horn.

"You stare at _this_ in wonder?" Allie asked at length.

"Allie," Harry said. This, this was magic, the moment was as pure magic as any he'd experienced and he didn't want it to end.

She shook her head at him. "You and Granger don't know better, Harry. This sight isn't something to stand in awe of, it's something to mourn."

It was Neville, quite unexpectedly, who spoke up. "We aren't as we once were."

"Maybe _you_ aren't, Pellinore," Malfoy said nastily. "We Malfoys—" but what the Malfoys were Harry didn't find out as the other boy abruptly stopped talking, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Allie had just elbowed him.

"Allie's right. Unicorns aren't meant to be penned up like a herd of horses," Padma said. Her voice was low, sad as the horse-like creatures danced in the moonlight.

"Why?"

"They're immortal beings, Harry," Allie explained in a soft voice. "They are solitary and mate only very rarely. It doesn't matter if the bindings are bars of cold iron or wizard-wrought spells. They are meant roam the Old Places, the Deep Forests where it is always spring and no animals can be found by hunters. The Wild Places where no unicorn is ever seen, but signs of its presence are all around. This is…obscene."

"Nobody has seen a unicorn in the Wild in centuries," Parvati said.

"We have to hide them," Neville said. "If we didn't, muggles would find out and—"

"You think a _wild_ unicorn could be found if it didn't want to be? _Hah!_" Allie's burst of laughter was cold, hard, and distinctly lacking in humor. "So we steal Magic—_true_ magic and not the petty spells we learn in that castle—from a world that has far too little True Magic left to it, and we pen it up and keep it for ourselves and pat each other on the back and say what great people we are."

"Neville's right," Hermione said. "If the muggles knew they'd kill them all for their horns or something."

"Where do you think those horns the apothecaries sell come from, Granger?" Allie asked. "A unicorn's horn _is_ its magic. A unicorn can slay dragons with its horn, or bring you back from the very brink of death, or knock down ripe chestnuts for bear cubs. All three are one and the same to a unicorn. To take a unicorn's horn is to take their magic. Do you know what happens to an immortal being if its magic is taken?"

"They die?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"No, they don't," Allie told him. "Well? Has unicorn-lore become so lost that you don't know the price of a unicorn's horn?"

"Ah creature tha's totally innocent, learns of loss," Hagrid said softly.

Harry looked up. Hagrid was watching the unicorns just as intently as the rest of them—even Malfoy—and Harry thought he saw tears shimmer in the corner of Hagrid's eyes.

He turned back to the herd. "I don't understand."

"Unicorns don't understand loss, Harry," Padma said slowly. "Immortality doesn't mean that they can't be killed, it means that they exist outside of time itself. They live _now_. Being outside of time keeps them from aging, but it also keeps them from understanding loss, sorrow, regret… A unicorn that has its horn taken will remember not knowing such things. It will remember when it could heal any hurt or open any lock. It will be able to remember all that it was once and is no longer."

"But it doesn't matter what they were meant to be," Hermione said. "There _aren't_ any places of wild magic left."

"There are a few," Allie disagreed. "There's the Valley beyond the Scar."

"And Glastonbury Tor," Padma said. "Whatever Sealed that one either fluctuates or is breaking down. It was only a few years ago that a couple of muggles climbing the tor found a ring of standing stones instead of the ruins of St. Micheal's Church at the summit. And then there's that cave that muggles wander into all the time…"

The unicorns wheeled one last time, their horns glinting and hides shimmering. Then the fog moved back in and the clouds closed again and the unicorns disappeared into their forest.

"Right then," Hagrid said gruffly, but Harry could see that he was as moved by the beauty of the unicorns as the rest of them, even Allie despite her disgust. "You lot listen careful now 'cause it's dangerous business, what we're going ter be doin' tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks or gettin' hurt."

He led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which seemed to sigh because a draught of wind lifted their hair and made the edges of their robes snap. Hagrid lifted his lamp and they could see a narrow, twisted dirt path wind its way between the black trees.

"Look here," Hagrid said, gesturing to a small pool of silvery liquid. "Yeh see that stuff shinin' there on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn's blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt bad by summat."

Padma squatted beside at and poked at it with a twig.

"_Careful_," Hagrid warned.

"This is fresh," Padma said. "It's not dried at all."

"Stuff don' congeal like normal blood," Hagrid said.

Padma shrugged and touched a finger to it. "It's still warm," she noted, before flicking her fingers. The silvery blood beaded up and spattered on the ground, leaving her finger, to her surprise, clean.

"Second time this week," Hagrid said, passing her a flask and a giant handkerchief. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have to put it out of its misery."

Padma sniffed at the flask, then wetted the handkerchief with water from it and wiped her fingers just to be sure.

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" asked Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothing that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep to the path. We're gonna split inter two parties and follow differ'nt branches of the path."

"I want Fang," Malfoy said instantly.

"Alright, but I warn yeh, he's a ruddy coward," Hagrid said.

"And _we_ are staying together," Parvati said, grabbing her sister's hand.

Hagrid looked at Padma, but when she didn't object he nodded. "So you two, me, an' Hermione'll go down the left hand path. Draco, Allie, Harry an' Fang go down the right. Neville, yeh come with me too. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now—that's it."

It wasn't really, Harry thought. Allie's were weak and feeble things and Padma had never even gotten her wand out before Hagrid said they were done.

"An' if yeh get inter any trouble yeh send up red sparks and the others'll all come and get yeh—so be careful—let's go."

So they went down the little path that threaded its way between the great black trees and after a while it split into two paths and Hagrid led the Gryffindors and Padma down the right

At once the weakness in Hagrid's strategy became obvious to Harry. Hagrid had the only lantern, leaving Harry's group with only the intermittent moon that was now made worse by the many thick branches that obscured its silvery light.

They walked in silence with their eyes to the ground, more to make sure that they stayed on the twisting path than to look for signs of an injured unicorn. Every so often a ray of moonlight managed to pierce through the heavy branches overhead and lit upon unicorn blood which would flash with silver-blue fire from where it was spattered over the dead leafs, dry twigs, and dirt.

"Well it _could_ be a werewolf," Malfoy said, sounding very uncertain.

"Have you ever even seen a unicorn before tonight?" Allie asked. "Even penned in the way they are they remain powerfully magical creatures. If werewolves were attacking them we'd be seeing a lot of dead werewolves."

"Shut up," Harry said.

"Excuse me?" Allie asked.

"Shh," he hissed. "Do you hear that?" He was aware of the phoenix amulet growing warm against his skin, but it didn't grow hot. Allie and Malfoy had lapsed into silence, and over Fang's soft whine he could hear a faint slithering and crackling sound, rather like a cape being dragged over the rough ground.

"What do you think that is?" he asked.

"I don't know," Allie murmured softly.

Harry turned to Malfoy, the other boy looked dreadfully pale in the wan light that penetrated through the trees.

"A werewolf," the Slytherin said.

"That wasn't a werewolf," Allie said scornfully. "Granger was, as usual, correct; its _days_ past the full moon. I don't think it was a unicorn either."

Harry looked around, but in the darkness he couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything either.

In the moment his attention was turned away Malfoy whipped out his wand. Harry started to raise his own to defend himself, but Malfoy threw red sparks into the air.

"What did you do that for?" Harry demanded.

"You heard it! It was going to kill me!" Malfoy said shrilly.

"What is it?" Hagrid demanded as he came crashing out of the woods with his crossbow. "Where is it?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Why'd yeh send up sparks, Harry?" Hagrid asked, looking around.

"Malfoy did," Harry said. "We heard something, sort of slithering and rustling at the same time, like a cloak being dragged on the ground."

"Yeh mean yeh sent up sparks and there weren' no danger?" Hagrid said. "I told yeh, yeh'll be fine s'long as me or Fang's with yeh. An' now I left Hermione and the Patil girls alone because yeh used the danger signal!"

"So what? _I _am in danger!" Malfoy protested.

Hagrid gave him a disgusted look.

"What do you think the noise could have been?" Harry asked.

"Don' rightly know; not w'out hearin' it fer myself," Hagrid admitted. "Yeh'll be alright now, Harry?"

"Sure, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Right then." Hagrid gave Malfoy one more look, then stalked back into the trees to rejoin the others.

"Let's go," Allie said angrily, giving Malfoy a hard look before plunging down the trail past Harry.

They walked on, now keeping an ear out for the strange slithering sound as much as they were watching the ground for unicorn blood. At length the path began to widen slightly until it suddenly opened out into a small clearing. In the clearing stood a centaur.

Her hair was gold and her horse-body shone of pale honey in the light of the moon.

"Well come, Harry Potter," she said, her voice held the depth of ages but was surprisingly light and sweet for it.

"You know who I am?" Harry asked.

"I know you better than you know yourself, Harry Potter," she replied. "Your story was written in the sky by the stars of ages past. And yet, not a full year past, the story was thrown into discord. The Hound remains kenneled, and the Warrior does not yet walk the Earth, but these signs are of the few that remain unchanged.

"Ara drips with blood yet unspilled upon it. The Arrow has been loosed into the world. Peace-Bringer that you humans name Columba has been replaced by the Crow in the portents. Noctua sleeps after dusk. Monoceros lies dying and dead, and Musca, which normally flitters about the sides of Prophecy and Foretelling, has been drawn to the scents of blood and flesh. Mars…Mars has been very bright, but especially so this night.

"Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know what these, the most basic of signs, mean?"

"Er…no, not really," Harry said. Though the sound of dying monoceros, whatever that was, didn't sound good, and there being the scent of flesh and blood didn't sound much better. "Nothing good?"

"Three score years and more it has been since the skies told of times so dark, as they did at the time of the last summer solstice," the centaur said, stamping a hoof. "They have grown only darker since. Should they continue, they could become the worst skies we have seen in twenty score _centuries_."

"I'm sure Potter is simply _dying_ to know how he's going to become the savior of mudbloods and muggle-lovers," Malfoy sneered, "but I have better things to do."

She reared up and kicked her fore-hooves threateningly. "I have explained these things so Harry Potter may understand, but I am _here_ because I bear a warning for him."

"You have?" Harry asked. What she had said so far didn't sound much like a warning. A prediction that things were going to be very bad, maybe, but not actually anything he could use. Something like 'the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side has a giant, people-eating, three-headed dog, you might consider staying away' would have been a warning. Crows, and arrows, and dripping blood that hadn't been spilled yet, just sounded like something out of a muggle horror story.

"Yes," the Centaur told him.

"Er…warn me of what, exactly?"

"Death stalks these woods."

"I knew it," Malfoy said. "I'm leaving."

"You never leave, Little Dragon, it is not in your movements," the Centaur said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Malfoy demanded.

"It means you haven't been paying attention in astronomy," Allie said. "The constellation _Draco_ never sets."

The Centaur cocked her head and seemed impressed that she knew this. "Young human, have you learned the Dance and what the patterns foretell?"

"I only ever learned a few steps. Prophecy tells us only what _will_ be, not what _may_ be. Dreams of darkness and blood haunt my sleep.

"I dreamt a dream that was not a dream. The sun, the Beacon that governs the day, was put out, and the stars… The Earth became like ice as it hung in the void blind and blackening like arctic frostbite and rot on a corpse. Dawn came, and went, and came again but brought with it no day."

"Very funny," Malfoy said, but Harry watched his friend in growing alarm. Allies face had fallen strangely slack, and her eyes were glassy.

"A great Shadow fell across the land, and the World was cast asunder. Oceans fled, swallowing city and plain and desert. Mountains were swallowed by depthless chasms, a torn from their roots. The nations were brought low, and their people scattered to the far corners of the world. War came, with her handmaids Famine and Pestilence. The moon shone like blood, and the sun was like ash. The land burned, the seas boiled, and the few that were living envied the dead."

Harry was brushed aside by the centaur as she approached Allie, taking the witch's face in her hands and lifting it up. "Who was your mentor, Child? Did she not teach you to ward your sleep?"

"Glencloud," Allie whispered the name. "When I was but a child. Never before coming here have I dreamt so…"

"Humans," the centaur said with a snort and a thump of a hoof. "I shall send instruction, but tonight no nightmares shall find you, young Dreamer."

Allie shook as the centaur stepped back.

"Allie, are you all right?" Harry asked quickly.

"Better and no worse than I was before," she told him. "I'm better, honest, Harry. Better than I have in a long while." She turned back to the centaur. "Something stirs in the East. Foul beings of the Old Times that still lurk in forgotten corners of minds of man."

"Yes," the centaur agreed.

Allie looked up. Most of the small clearing was covered by wide-spreading tree limbs, but some stars were visible. "It is not just imagination then? Not just a dream."

"No, I am afraid it is not."

"Why now?"

"Ten years were promised, ten years were granted, and ten years received."

Allie didn't seem inclined to ask anything more, so Harry stepped forward slightly.

"There's a unicorn that's been hurt," Harry said to the centaur. "Can you tell us anything about that?"

The centaur shook her head, her hair, caught in the light of the moon, flashed into a golden halo around her head. She sighed, stamped one fore-hoof, and looked up at the stairs. At length she replied without turning her attention back to them. "Always are the innocent the first victims. So it has been for ages that only the stars have seen, so it is now…and so shall it be in the future until Death itself meets its end."

"Yes, yes," Malfoy said, "but have you _seen_ anything? I can't leave this ruddy forest until we find that bloody unicorn, so if you've seen anything unusual you had best tell us now so we can be on our way."

The Centaur seemed to ignore Malfoy, and Harry was sure that she was making a point about the other boy's rude manners, but then she spoke.

"Mars is bright tonight," the Centaur repeated, her gaze still to the heavens. "Unusually bright."

"Useful, you lot are," Malfoy said. He dragged at Fang's collar and the dog followed him across the clearing and back into the woods.

Mindful of Hagrid's warning that they were safe so long as they had Fang with them, Harry and Allie hurried after. Malfoy had lit the tip of his wand and though it blinked, and disappeared and reappeared as the path weaved in and out of trees, it was easy enough to follow.

They hurried down the path and finally caught up with Malfoy who was nearly dragging Fang after him as he vainly sought for the unicorn so that he could get out of the forest as quickly as possible. They hadn't walked for very long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, when the path, none-too-easy to follow to begin with, became almost impossible to follow as it wound its way through the thickly-growing trees.

"If you don't slow down we're going to leave the others behind, Malfoy," Harry protested.

"Well they can deal with the unicorn when they catch up!" Malfoy retorted. "We just have to find the beast and send up sparks. Then we can go back to the castle. You heard that beast, Potter, it said _death_ is in these woods."

There was a low, but shrill, cry.

Malfoy froze, and then said in a very calm voice though the look in his eyes was not calm at all: "I'm getting out of here, Potter, unless you want to run into whatever made that sound."

Harry turned away from Malfoy in disgust. A flash of silver caught his eyes. "There, did you see that?" he asked, pointing off through the branches of an ancient oak that was growing from the side of a depression or bowl in the forest floor.

"See what, Potter? There's nothing there," Malfoy said derisively.

"Hagrid said to stay on the path," Allie said as Harry started down the embankment.

"I thought I saw something move, something silvery," Harry said. "It could be the unicorn."

"The poor thing is probably dead by now," Allie said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Have you been looking at the blood pools? The bleeding has gotten worse. A lot worse. It's losing more here than it was at the start of the trail."

"So?"

"So even a unicorn can only stand to lose so much blood."

"Right," Harry looked at the path, then at the direction he was sure he'd seen the flash of silver. "Then we go and check it out, and if it is the unicorn we send up sparks. Either way, Hagrid's going to want to make sure."

"Grand," he heard Allie mutter behind him before continuing in a louder, mocking voice, "Draco, do be a dear and bring that dog."

It wasn't easy as Harry had hoped. The oak wasn't the only tree growing up the side of the embankment and they had to struggle down against branches that snatched at their robes. Shrubs with briars and thick thorns grew thigh-high and impeded their way.

"Harry, you think we're heading in the direction of a slain unicorn, right?" Allie asked from behind him.

"Yes."

"Presumably something _killed_ that unicorn."

"Uh-huh."

"And what if it's still there?"

Harry stopped so suddenly he nearly kept going down the embankment before he managed to grab onto a branch and stop himself. Good question. "Send up red sparks and hope Hagrid gets here fast?"

"Merlin, Potter, if that's the best plan you've got then it's no wonder you were sorted into Hufflepuff," Malfoy said scathingly from even further back than Allie. "Even _Gryffindor_'s have better plans, well, a _plan_."

"Yeah, 'Charge'," Allie said.

"I didn't say it was a _good_ plan," the Slytherin boy sniffed. "Just a better one than hoping for someone to save us if you lead us right into the mouth of whatever is killing unicorns."

Harry pushed his way through a last line of bushes and found himself in a clearing of sorts. An oblong depression bordered by ancient trees and thick snarled bushes with nasty-looking thorns. There was another break in the bushes on the other side of the clearing; and two-thirds of the way across lay the gleaming body of what could only be a unicorn.

Harry had never seen anything so sad. It was clearly dead, blood seeped from its side and from its neck which was twisted at an angle that no neck was supposed to twist at. The unicorn's slender legs stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen, and its mane was spread like a pearly cloak over the dark leaves. Liquid blue eyes glowed unseeingly as the moon-light struck them through the trees.

"Damn," Allie sighed feelingly.

"I thought you knew it was dead," Harry said.

"I was hoping I was wrong," Allie admitted, "that the damage wouldn't be so bad it couldn't be healed."

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered…Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, Allie, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted—so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry—silvery unicorn blood was dribbling down its front, but it had a great hood over its head so Harry couldn't see its face. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry—he couldn't move for fear and the phoenix amulet inside his robes was very hot.

"…cantate Deo, psallite Domino…"

A pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half-blinded, he staggered backward, dimly aware of Allie's panicked voice chanting in Latin from somewhere close by. The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees.

"…ad orientem, ecce dabit voci suae vocem virtutis… "

It screeched. A mind twisting, mind-numbing thing that felt like a hundred freezing, rusty razors scraping along his spine…like an evil orchastra of hundreds of teachers scraping their fingernails across chalk boards.

"…tribuite virtutem Deo."

A hand like a vice fastened around Harry's upper arm and dragged him back to his feet. "Harry, Harry are you still with me?" a voice demanded.

Harry shook his head, his stomach rebelled at the motion but he fought it back under control. "I think so…_look out!_" he shouted, looking up to see the shadowy figure stalking towards them.

"_Shit_, um, I think Domino—yes: "Domino: 'Refugium meum et fortitudo mea…'"

The thing stopped again and opened its mouth to scream. Silver blood shone against the shadowy-outline of the figure.

"What is that?"

"Demon…I think." Harry could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "No, uh, non timb-_timebis_, non timebis a temor-_timore_…"

As Allie stumbled over words next to him, Harry groped for his wand with one hand while the other sought to free the amulet from his robes.

"_Lumos!_" The tip of his wand flared into brilliant light and the creature recoiled, spinning away before Harry could see its face.

"Uh, non timebis a timore nocturno _a saggita volante in die!_ Um, A peste pera- pera-something…oh the heck with it," Allie muttered, breaking off her chant to produce her own wand. "_Lumos_." The end of her wand flared slightly and the air sort of _rippled_, but the wand remained dark. "Lumos, _Lumos_—damnit!"

"Was that doing anything?" Harry gasped as she continued to struggle with her wand.

"Probably just making it angry," Allie said, giving up on getting the tip of her wand to light up as she began to chant again. "…salvum me fac et in virtute tua…"

"I don't think that's helping any."

"It's the best I can come up with," she said. "And we're not dead yet so…"

"Can you send up sparks?" Harry asked. He didn't want to do it himself. The creature seemed sensitive to light and breaking his wand-light to summon Hagrid seemed like a losing proposition at the moment.

His friend nodded and flicked her wand into the sky. The sparks she produced were pale, more pink than red, but still quite bright compared to her usual wand-work. "Converte mala super inimicos meos et in veritate tua disperde illos."

Harry finally pulled the phoenix amulet out. No sooner was it free of the confines of his robes than it burst into gold and red-colored flames. Tiny green embers burned in the place of the gemstone eyes, and it clutched an orb of writhing shadows in its talons.

The creature gave another shriek as Harry dangled the amulet on its chain before them, and he heard the sound of hooves behind him. They came at a rapid beat, approaching quickly, and then just and suddenly stopped. Something jumped clean over Harry and the hoof-beats took up again as it charged at the figure. The creature shrieked at the charging figure, then turned and fled.

When Harry looked up a centaur was standing over them, not the female from the clearing; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur.

"Yes—thank you—" Harry said as he slowly tucked the amulet away. He looked around the clearing, but aside from the dead unicorn, Allie, himself and this new centaur, it might as well have been deserted. The danger seemed to be well-past. He looked up and used his wand to change the color of the sparks from pale pinky-red to brightly-glowing green, then turned back to the centaur. "What _was _that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "And you, the Thorne." He looked around, his tail giving a nervous little flick. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time—especially for you," he said to Harry. "Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"A rare honor, sir," Allie said.

He snorted and stamped a hoof. "_Sir_," he huffed. "My name is Firenze."

"Can you carry both of us?" Harry asked as the centaur lowered his front legs so that he could climb on.

Firenze hesitated. "No," he admitted.

"In that case I'd just as soon wait."

"It isn't safe for you…"

"Harry, go," Allie said. "This isn't time for you to go all Hufflepuff."

"I'm not leaving without you," Harry said stubbornly.

"Hagrid's coming, I'll be fine until he gets here," Allie insisted.

"And what if that thing, whatever it is, comes back?" Harry demanded. "So far the only thing that seems to do any good against it is the phoenix amulet, which you gave me but you don't understand how it's working."

"If it shows up again then I let loose," Allie said. She jerked her sleeve back to expose a silver band that encircled her wrist. Its surface, shimmering in the moonlight, was etched with glowing runes. "I'll take this off, if I have to, but I won't do it with you around."

Harry started to tell her that she had no way of knowing if that'd be enough, if the thing that had attacked them was even capable of being controlled, but a pained sort of gasp from somewhere behind him caught his attention. He whirled around in time to see the unicorn weakly flail its legs.

"It isn't dead," he said.

"I thought surely she must be," Firenze whispered.

"As did I," Allie replied.

"Quickly, perhaps you can heal her still," Firenze said.

"What?" Harry asked. "We're first years! Healing magic isn't taught at all for years yet, and those wouldn't be near enough for this."

"Your friend can call flesh, bid wounds to close."

"In theory," Allie said skeptically. "I mean, the large is the small as the small is the large, what is above is below and what is below is above and all the rest."

Harry looked from his friend to the centaur and back. "Allie, what's he talking about? You never told me that you could Heal."

"That's because I can't," Allie said. "Supposedly I could call the cells to replicate and direct healing. But I don't have anywhere near that kind of capability."

"What about imagination and willpower?" Harry asked. "You told me that they were interconnected, that a strong force of will could make up for a lack of power."

"Because it isn't just an issue of power," she said. "It's a matter of skill. There might not be any theoretical limits on magic, but there are practical ones. Besides," she said with a heavy sigh as she fell to her knees next to the unicorn, "it doesn't matter if I can or cannot Heal. I'm mortal and she isn't. My magic is inimical to what she is."

Harry looked around. Silver blood was splashed everywhere, almost enough to conceal the great rents in the side of the unicorn if not for the…things hanging out. He could hear a shallow gurgling from the unicorn's mouth and a fine mist of silver droplets sprayed from its nose.

After a moment Allie touched its neck. The unicorn squealed, throwing its head, and spraying silvery droplets of blood.

"Allie."

"I can't," she told Harry. "I just can't. My magic hurts her almost as badly as…whatever did this to her. I'm pretty sure that gurgling means she's got a pierced lung. She's going to drown on her own blood and there's nothing I can do except watch. Firenze, is there anything you can do?"

"I have little skill in the healing arts," the centaur said, and Harry could have sworn he'd heard a note of embarrassment in his voice. He walked to stand next to Harry, taking slow deliberate movements that made very little sound.

"Come, sit on my back," Firenze said softly. "We shall let your friend try, and then I shall return you to Hagrid." He knelt his front legs and helped Harry to seat himself across his lower back.

"What about Allie?" Harry asked as the centaur coaxed him away from the dying unicorn.

"Do you think your friend so defenseless?" Firenze asked. "She has invoked an ancient and subtle Power this night. Its attention is surely upon her and that is no small thing. Besides, that which stalks this wood wants you dead more than any other. Even alone she is safer than with both of us here."

There was a sound of galloping hooves and a pair of centaurs burst out of the woods. Both were burly with powerfully-built horse-bodies and equally strong human-bodies. The first, a chestnut with gleaming flanks, red hair, and a thick beard. The second, black where his friend was red and more wild-looking.

"Firenze!" the black thundered. "What are you doing? You have human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you not know who this is, Bane?" Firenze demanded in a harsh, low voice. "This is the Potter boy. Better for all that he left the forest as quickly as possible."

"What have you been telling him?" the black, Bane, demanded. "Have you forgotten that we have sworn oaths not to set ourselves against the heavens? Have we not read what is to come in the movement of the planets?"

"I am certain Firenze has done what he thought best," the chestnut said in a sorrowful voice.

"What he thought best?" Bane asked scornfully. "What is that to us? Centaurs are concerned with what is _foretold_. It is not our business to go running around after stray humans in our forest!"

"And when the hour has struck, Bane?"

Harry had been watching from around Firenze's shoulder, now he turned to see the golden centaur from the clearing walking towards them.

"Dreammyst," Firenze said.

"Firenze, Ronan," she nodded a brisk greeting to each before turning on Bane. "Well, Star-Watcher? When the time that the planets foretold is at hand, what shall you do? Will you ride to war, with humans if need be, or will you crouch in a clearing with your stars the way a goblin crouches with its horde."

"I am a son of _Chiron_," Bane roared. "Not some beast of the field. It is he that I follow. I read the stars, not act against them."

"How do we act against them?" Dreammyst asked furiously. "They tell of what's to come, not how it ends. _Never,_ in thousands of years, how it ends. I watch the stars for they were given to us to watch, and I tell you that the hour is quickly approaching. But though the time has not yet come, I will stand with the humans this night."

"As will I," Firenze said. "Do you not see that unicorn that even now labors for life, or the human that vainly seeks to aid her? Do you not understand why it was slain or have the stars decided not to include you in that little secret. I know what stalks this forest, Bane, as would you if you would bother to open your eyes."

"And you, Ronan." Harry turned as Dreammyst spoke up again. "I would set myself against the very stars we watch rather than let that thing so near to our foaling fields were I to have your hooves."

At this Ronan became very straight and very still.

"The stars would have warned us of such a calamity." Bane said dismissively.

"And if they had?" Firenze asked. "You yourself said not five minutes past, Bane, that it was not our place to set ourselves against them."

Bane reared back on his hind legs, but Ronan stepped angrily between him and Firenze.

"Enough," he said, and his voice wasn't nearly so sorrowful now. "Enough, both of you. Dreammyst is right about my having cause to not want that thing in our forest—"

"Magorian has the fields well protected as is his duty."

"The Herd Stallion has far more duties than protecting the fields," Firenze said sharply.

"—and even if I did not," Ronan pressed on, "I'd _still_ not want it here. This is not the proper time or place for the centaurs to decide whether or not to ride to war. But I will see no more unicorns slain in the forest, Bane. Even if that means that I have to patrol its entire length and breadth myself."

"Brother," Firenze said, "you do not."

"Then I gallop for Magorian," Ronan said. "Dreammyst, will you carry the girl?"

Bane looked from one to the other and back. "I will have no part in this," he said angrily and stormed off. Ronan watched for a moment, then turned and galloped off in another direction.

"Hagrid will be here soon," Firenze told Harry as the female centaur walked over to where Allie still knelt next to the unicorn "You should not have allowed yourselves to become so separated."

"We were trying to keep up with Malfoy," Harry said.

"There was another child with you?" Firenze asked, clearly upset.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry said. "He ran off with Fang."

"Fang is a sensible creature," Firenze said.

"Hagrid called him a coward."

Firenze stamped a fore-hoof, a gesture that seemed to serve as a kind of shrug. "Hagrid has the respect of the Forest. Even those that would otherwise mean him harm allow him to pass unmolested, and likewise those that are with him. Fang, they know as his proxy. If this Malfoy boy is with Fang he is safe enough if he stays on the paths."

"Oh," Harry said, watching as Allie shook her head at whatever Dreammyst had told her.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" Firenze asked quietly.

Harry looked up at the centaur, taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. "No," he said after a moment. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"It is monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a fell deed. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. To have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself… Such a person will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches their lips."

"Who would do such a thing?" Harry asked softly. "To endure such a life would be worse than death, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Firenze said. "Only a person with nothing left to lose and everything to gain would risk such a fate. Someone who knows that they must only endure such a life for a short period of time before they can sip a more powerful drink—a drink capable of restoring one to full life, vigor of limb and power of magic—a drink that is life immortal. Do you not know what lies concealed inside the walls of Hogwarts at this very hour?"

"You mean the Philosopher's Stone," Harry whispered. "So…unicorn's blood to stay alive until it can possess the stone and the elixir of life." He frowned, "But why would a demon want the stone? Are they even alive?"

"No, for there was no demon," Firenze said. "In this your friend was sorely mistaken. Can you think of no one, Harry, who would do such a thing?"

"You mean to say that the _thing_ we saw was—was _Voldemort_?" Harry asked.

Before Firenze could answer there was a heavy rustling sound in the woods. Harry and Firenze turned as Hagrid entered the clearing, his crossbow held high. Padma, Parvati, Neville, and Hermione entered behind him.

"Harry, are you all right?" Padma asked. "You sent up green sparks so we knew you found the unicorn but we saw red sparks earlier. Oh no, is it dead? What's Allie trying to do?"

"We met centaurs too," her sister was saying at the same time. "Bane and Ronan, they said that Mars was bright tonight and didn't seem very happy about it. Who are these? And where's Malfoy?"

Harry looked at Hermione. "Well?"

Hermione looked at the twins. "I think they pretty much got it all," she said.

"Harry," Hagrid said. "Yeh shouldn'ah gotten s'far ahead."

"Malfoy kept hurrying us up," Harry said. "We found this clearing and something attacked us. Malfoy took Fang and ran. Firenze drove whatever it is off."

Hagrid lowered his crossbow. "Well s'long as he's got Fang with him," he said, though he looked very worried. "Do yeh know what attacked yeh?"

Harry hesitated. After Norbert he had meant to stay on the straight and narrow. Maybe a few pranks, but leave the Stone alone. But the dead unicorn, Voldemort, and the Stone were all tied up together. "It was drinking the unicorn's blood, Hagrid," he said instead.

"You mean like a vampire?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said tersely, his eyes on Hagrid.

"A-are yeh sure?" Hagrid asked slowly.

Harry nodded. "Firenze was telling me about it, a little, and, well, there's that thing in the castle. I figure that if, Vol—"

"Don' say his name," Hagrid cut him off. "And _he_ couldn' ah gotten in the castle."

"No, but if Snape was working for him—"

"Snape?" Hagrid asked loudly. "Working fer You-Know-Who? Rubbish."

"Harry," Padma repeated. "What's Allie doing?"

"She's trying to heal it," Harry said. "I think. I'm not sure, maybe she's just…being with it."

He led them across the clearing to where the unicorn lay. Allie was sitting near the unicorn's head, lightly stroking its neck. It had stopped struggling, but its breaths came in wet, ragged little pants that caused blood pooled near its nose to ripple like wind across a moonlit pond.

"Draco ran off with Fang, Hagrid," Allie said as they approached. "You'd better find him before he runs into a colony of acromantulas or that werewolf he's been talking about."

Hagrid suddenly looked worried. "Acro…there's no acromantulas in the forest," he said loudly.

The unicorn gave one last feeble kick, then lay very still.

Allie pressed her hand against the unicorn's neck for a moment, then shook her head. "That's it, then."

"Couldn't you do CPR?" Hermione asked, "like you did with Padma? My aunt raises horses and I heard that she once had a horse that—"

"Unicorns aren't _horses_," Parvati spat.

"They are both equines, or near enough."

"No they aren't, Granger," Allie said. "I told you, unicorns are immortal. You're trying to apply the mundane world to something that lives on hopes and dreams more so than it does on grass and clover, something that lives outside the sweep of time. And even if I was willing to inflict that on her, I have no way of closing her wounds."

She leaned forward to reach for the unicorn's head. Reaching down to close first one unseeing liquid-blue eye, then the other, she murmured, "Be at peace, Daughter of the Eastern Sky."

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"Harry suspects that it was _drinking_ unicorn's blood?" Albus asked sharply.

"Not suspects," Hagrid said. "He was really ada-adama…"

"Adamant?"

"Righ' on, Professor, adaman' abou' it," Hagrid said. "Reckons it were You-Know-Who."

Albus closed his eyes but wasn't able to hide the pained expression. "Every time I think Tom could stoop no lower. A desperate thing, most desperate. Were I cynical enough I'd consider that more are being killed closer together an encouraging sign. Still, I do not think that Voldemort can simply walk through the doors. Even if he could, any temporary body he may have constructed couldn't help but to set off a number of wards. Would the Centaurs help us in clearing the forest?"

Hagrid shook his great head. "Some of 'em would. Firenze, Ronan probably, sounds like his mate's abou' ter have a kid, a couple of others."

"Not enough," Albus said heavily. "Without their concerted help, which means convincing Magorian, we couldn't hope to keep Tom from eluding us without bringing in outside help."

"Professor, Harry said somethin' else," Hagrid said. "He though' Professor Snape was workin' fer You-Know-Who."

Albus sighed. "And you told him…"

"Tha' it was rubbish," Hagrid said. "What else could I have told him? The truth?"

"Harry will need to be able to work with Severus at the very least, Hagrid," Albus said. Far too much rested upon it. If he were to be killed Harry would almost certainly become the focal point of everything Voldemort was against. It would be _vital_ Harry have access to Tom's inner thoughts and plans.

Hagrid grunted, but he didn't voice his thoughts about the likelihood of that happening. He wasn't so sure this was the best way to go about things, but Albus Dumbledore said it was and in Hagrid's experience, Albus had been right about far more things than he'd been wrong. "Abou' der Malfoy boy—"

"Draco served his detention and returned to his dormitory quite safely," Albus said.

"He cut and ran, Pr'fessor," Hagrid said.

"Understandable, under the circumstances," Albus allowed. "You were supposed to have a trio of sixth years to help. I must look into how those detentions were reassigned." He already knew that both parties were to have assembled in the Entrance Hall. The detentions that Harry and the other first years were _supposed_ to be serving, was in the Greenhouses with Professor Sprout which made the Entrance Hall an obvious meeting point. It was the Herbology Professor who had alerted him when her expected students hadn't been escorted to her by Argus.

Unfortunately the caretaker had been subjected to a rather potent _Confundus_ charm with a poorly performed memory charm layered over it. How anyone could have forgotten poor Quirrell's stutter was beyond him, but he didn't think he could dig any deeper without damaging the man's mind.

"Professor?"

Albus turned back to Hagrid. "I'm well aware that neither Harry nor his friends will like it, Hagrid. But under the circumstances I cannot ask Mr. Malfoy to serve a second detention, and I'm not referring just to what his father managed in regards to the House Points." He held Hagrid's gaze for a moment, then reluctantly the half-giant nodded.

"Alrigh', Professor. I think it's a mistake, is all," Hagrid said.

"Was there anything else?"

"Now tha' yeh mention it," Hagrid said. "Harry and Allie talke' teh Dreammyst. Harry said tha' Allie told her abou' some nightmare she were havin', but tha' he can' remember what she told her. Sounded like they were pretty serious though."

"Interesting," Albus murmured. "Very interesting."

\|/\|/\|/

A/N: Allie is paraphrasing Lord Byron and Robert Jordan in her dreams. Psalm 67:33-35, 90:2, 5-6, and 53:3 and 7 of the Vulgate (Respectively 68, 91, and 54 using the original Hebrew numbering instead of the Greek). .va/archive/bible/nova_vulgata/documents/nova-vulgata_vt_psalmorum_


	23. Chapter 23: On the Making of Heroes

**Chapter 23: On the Making of Heroes**

"Heroes happen because somebody made a mistake."  
Remark attributed to US Army battalion commander, Desert Storm

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In the years that followed, Harry was never quite able to explain how he managed to get through exams without failing.

It wasn't the practical parts that gave him trouble. Actually, he was usually one of the fastest in his classes—with the exception of Potions—to be able to cast a spell. The problem lay in the theoretical portions of the class that mostly revolved around a great deal of speculation about how magic worked and very few facts.

Exactly why theory was necessary—Hermione insisted it was, though he continued to nurse his doubts—he wasn't certain. From the way things were graded the Professors seemed inclined to agree with her over Harry, which meant excellent practical magic scores or no, he needed help.

So with Hermione coaching him in transfiguration and Padma coaching him in charms, and Tonks covering both as she reviewed the basics for her upcoming .T.s, Harry felt fairly confident in those two subjects. He was less so about Defense Against the Dark Arts since Quirrell's stutter, which had made him difficult to understand at the beginning of the year, now made him utterly incomprehensible. Still, he took the time to sit down with the textbook in slowly matched up sections with notes taken from the more comprehensible part of Quirrell's lessons, and then went digging through his copy of the _Encyclopedia Magica_ and the Hufflepuff library for further detail.

Likewise, credit was due to Allie and her potion revisions in which even Hermione followed along. Snape, who had been unpleasant at the start of the year, now took points left and right as he loomed over Harry in Double Potions, and seemed intent on returning the spread of House Points to what Malfoy had briefly had them set at.

The Professors hadn't thrown them right into the exams, of course. Even Snape, who seemed just the kind of teacher to do such a thing, refrained—likely Hermione was right in her speculation that he didn't want to risk any of them being held back a year. Later, as Harry was using a pineapple to practice up for the charms final by first levitating it and then making it sashay across his desk, an explosion shook the castle marking Neville's first exploding cauldron of the pre-exam revisions.

Binns' historiographical monologing took on a feverish pace as he tried to repeat an entire year's worth of goblin rebellions and giant uprisings. McGonagall had them transfigure rats into hatboxes and gave points for how pretty the hatbox was, but took points if it had whiskers.

"Ron had a great deal of trouble with that one," Hermione said later. With only three days left before exams, most of the first year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor dorms, plus a number of Ravenclaws, were crammed into one of the Hufflepuff Sett's practice potion labs working on the Forgetfulness potion again. Harry had deliberately led them in via one of the burrows since their entrances, like most of Hogwarts, were wont to move around without warning and would make it difficult for the other students to find their way back into the sett.

"It turned out exactly like I meant to," Ron insisted, though he didn't sound particularly convincing, Harry thought.

"It still looked exactly like a rat!" Hermione said. "Even when you opened it up."

"Eww," Hannah said, wrinkling her nose. "Who'd want to put their hat where a rat's lungs were?"

"I thought it'd be funny," Ron said stubbornly as the tips of his ears turned pink. "You know, you have a hat-box sitting around only people don't recognize it and see a rat. How'd you do, Harry?"

"Full marks," Harry said. "It had a nice silver-grey color, which she liked, but the top blended in so well it took her a minute to open it. Well, find it and then open it. Allie?"

"I had a first-rate education in the internal anatomy of rats before I was able to create a hatbox," Allie said mildly from where she was paying close attention to Neville. "Rat bits everywhere. Fur, guts, blood…amazing how much blood can be splashed around after you blow up the first three or four."

"Dozen," Parvati whispered from where she was working next to Harry.

"I heard that 'Vati."

"Don't call me 'Vati," Parvati hissed.

"Of course, when I actually _did_ make a hatbox, in addition to whiskers, it had four paws, a tail, and a fondness for cheddar," Allie finished. "Neville, stop, remember the mnemonic."

"Forgetfulness potion is UNFORGETTABLE," Neville said. "I just finished stirring, that's the Thirteen Turns, so Armadillo Bile…no wait, Adjust the fire, _then_ the Bile of a 'dillo."

"And bile is a…?"

Harry glanced at Hermione in time to see her bite her lip and tighten her grip on her potion knife. Snape had been particularly vicious in his description of what would happen to people who 'flail around with a necessary piece of equipment' back at the beginning of the year. Keeping her hand on it was her way of stopping herself from raising her hand. So despite her temptation to raise her hand or blurt out the answer, he saw the Gryffindor do something that she never would have done in another class, and keep her hand down.

Allie had made the clear the first time the Gryffindor had shown up. Since she wasn't giving points, and she _was_ asking questions to help specific people, anyone who tried to answer a question that wasn't asked them would be invited to leave and wouldn't be coming back.

"I'm not a teacher," Allie had said. "I won't be giving any points for right answers. You're here because you want my help. Respect the others who are here because they want the same thing. If you can't do that, then you can leave and not come back."

So far only Zacharias Smith, who Harry had spent the better part of the year avoiding—as much as such a thing was possible when you share a dorm room with another person—had tested her on it. Unfortunately for him, he'd decided to do it shortly after Bryce had stepped in to observe them. Despite his protests he hadn't made it back in yet.

Harry, having already added his armadillo bile, turned to watch.

"It's a liquid," Neville said slowly.

"And?" Allie asked.

"Well…it'll make the potion thinner, so we need to turn the fire down first. That'll make the potion thicken up before adding the bile because we want to maintain the consistency. But my potion is already pretty thin." He frowned. "I want to turn the fire down more than normal, or leave it down longer than normal before adding the bile?"

"_Very_ good," Allie said approvingly. "You don't want to turn the heat source down too much, you want to maintain an even temperature throughout the potion or it'll separate. In some potions you can maintain an even temp by stirring—"

"Like with the boil relieving potion," Neville said.

"For example," she agreed. "But…"

"But we don't want to do that for this potion," Neville finished. "We don't want to aga-ageg—"

"Agitate," Allie said.

"Agitate it any more. So I need to turn it down maybe a _little_ more, but not too much more, and wait longer." He started to leave it at that, but then added, "…and I need to watch the thickness to determine when to add the bile instead of waiting the normal amount of time."

"Excellent," Allie said. "Anyone have any questions about this? I think Neville voice all the salient points but if anyone needs clarification…"

"Not clarification, exactly," Hermione said. "How is it that you're able to adjust the recipes so easily and still turn out excellent potions? I mean, I can understand adjusting the temperature, like today, but at the beginning of the year you kept Neville from exploding the boil-relieving potion when he added porcupine quills when it was still on the fire and that hasn't been the only change you made this year."

"Is everyone at a point where they can pay attention to me for a moment? Hermione's asked a rather involved question."

She waited until she had everyone's attention.

"As Professor Snape said at the beginning of the year, Potions is part science, and part art. What a recipe does is make a potion replicable. If you know the basic techniques and follow the recipe exactly, you'll get a potion that should do what it it's supposed to do barring the occasional miss. Following a recipe exactly you will only rarely produce a truly remarkable potion, but unless you make a pretty big mistake or your ingredients are contaminated or something you won't end with a truly ruined potion. That's the science part."

"What about the reactions of the ingredients?" Hermione protested. "Snape doesn't talk about them at all!"

Allie glared at her briefly, but then shrugged. "At the level we're working they aren't really an issue. You don't need to know them to follow a recipe. Basic reactions, like those used to give a hair-coloring tonic a specific shade, are in _1,001_ _Magical Herbs and Fungi_, the basic Potions text, or in readily available reference books in the library. Substitutions will probably be covered in a couple of years, but advanced reactions are mostly a concern of researchers.

"What Professor Snape is teaching are the _techniques_. Sort of like, oh, different brush strokes and shading and all sorts of things, to people who are learning to paint. The art is where magic comes into play. Oh," she said as Hermione raised her hand, "magic is necessary for the 'science' stage as well. No mundane could brew a potion by following one of our recipes, though depending on the potion some are quite useable by them—"

"They can?" Justin asked.

"Sure," Allie said. "I wouldn't want to try giving one a pepperup potion or any of the body-altering ones. I don't think they could handle steam coming out of their ears, or that rearranging their internal organs would turn out well. Those meant to be applied topically such as a boil-relieving potion, on the other hand, or any mind-altering potion, whether it's a love potion or one that enables the imbiber to understand a foreign language, then certainly. The magic is all supplied by the brewer and the ingredients.

"But to get back at my point, Professor Snape isn't giving out the reactions because at this point they aren't relevant. You have the recipe in front of you. If you know what, how much, how it's to be prepared, and when it goes in, knowing the reactions isn't necessary. He's teaching the brush strokes, different ways of preparing ingredients, or stirring potions. If you pay attention to the potion there's a sort of…rhythm in how they come together. If you can get to the point where you can feel that, you can start to…meddle, toss in a contrasting color or add some syncopation…or lead it back to where it's supposed to be."

"So because you already know the techniques to brewing a potion, you know how to break them?" Hermione asked.

"If that's the explanation that works for you," Allie said. "I'm pretty sure Neville's problem, aside from the way he's intimidated by Professor Snape, is that he's cued so far into that…underlying current that he forgets the recipes and he doesn't have the experience, or techniques, to do away with them entirely. _I_ can't do that, not at any level."

"What makes you say that?" Neville asked uncertainly.

"What? That I can't do that?" Allie asked.

"No, that you think I can."

Allie shrugged. "There are…patterns in magic. Some people are just more clued into some than others. That's how you get people that are better in transfiguration or better in potions. Since going to you for tutoring in Herbology, Neville, and having had a chance to see how well plants respond to you, I think that's part of what's going on.

"If I had to guess, and keep in mind it is a guess, I think you're so intimidated by Snape that you're reaching into that…whatever you want to call it. Where the potions use plants that's rarely a concern, in fact, your potions seem to be doing better than the class average in regards to plant-based ingredients. But you don't have the same responsiveness with animal- and mineral-based ingredients and it's throwing you off, and the differing level of, um, technique is throwing your potions into disharmony. Also, when you're nervous you have a tendency to rush a little, like not taking the boil-relieving potion off the fire before adding porcupine quills."

\|/\|/\|/

Written exams were given on a sweltering day in June. The large room in which the first years took the exams trapped in all the heat, without so much as a conjured breeze to provide relief. It was just after lunch, and the only thing that kept them from falling into a doze were the straight-backed wooden chairs that had been charmed to be extra-uncomfortable.

New quills were handed out, so heavily laden with anti-cheating charms it made Harry's fingers tingle. More charms in the ink left a faint glow on the parchment that slowly faded as the ink dried.

Practical exams followed the written. Harry was well-prepared for Charms, but the mouse-into-a-snuffbox transfiguration required less power and a finer degree of control than the larger practice transformations. He left the classroom thinking he had performed rather well, but he wondered how Allie, who was even worse in Transfiguration than Neville was, would cope.

The Potions lab, which froze throughout winter despite its central location and the bubbling cauldrons that should have kept it warm, was even hotter than the rest of the school. Shimmering fumes made Harry light-headed and stung his eyes. Snape, for once, didn't say anything as the first years brewed their practical potions final. He didn't need to. He would glide around the room like an over-sized bat, appearing out of a smoky corner when a student would least expect, then loom over a poor unfortunate as he or she tried to remember if they had stirred their cauldron thirteen times or if it was only twelve. But at last Harry was able to add the elephant tail-hairs and wait for the clear solution to turn opaque before removing it from heat and bottling a sample.

And then, at last, he was done. He cleaned his cauldron and packed up his potions supplies quickly. Bryce had told them that there was always an entrance to the burrows close by the classrooms on the day of finals. Harry found the one near Snape's dungeon with little trouble and dropped his supplies off in his room before hurrying outside into the bright, warm sunlight.

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of the giant squid, which was basking in the shallows of the lake. Ron waved from under a giant oak, and Harry hurried across the grounds and flopped down into the grass beside him and Hermione.

"How did potions go, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Ron and I just finished with History of Magic. I was quite disappointed. I didn't need to learn about the Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637, and I don't know why I bothered with the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Hermione," Ron groaned. "You agreed. You weren't going to go over all of the exams."

Hermione started to retort, then shook her head. "Seriously, Harry. How do you think you did?"

"I don't know, okay I guess," Harry said, rubbing his scar. It had been aching one and off since that night in the Forbidden Forest. Now it outright _hurt_. "I'm pretty sure my practical potion turned out okay, and I know I did well in charms. I was trying for a nice wooden snuff-box, though. Something that would show the grain of wood, and it came out more like it was a gray fur-pattern. It was wood, it just looked like fur."

"Well, we knew it was going to be some kind of _Rodenta_ into an inanimate container transformation," Hermione said.

"Will you just stop?" Ron asked. "You're making me feel ill."

Justin and Ernie came out almost at the same time and joined them.

"Are you feeling okay?" Justin asked him. "You're rubbing your scar again."

"It hurts," Harry admitted. "It has before, but not so often or so badly."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said instantly.

"I'm not ill," Harry said crossly. "I think it might be a warning. It didn't start happening until the Forbidden Forest. And the phoenix amulet is warm. That means there's danger close by."

"Harry, it's almost ninety degrees out here, in the shade," Hermione said patiently. "You wear that thing next to your skin. Of _course_ it's going to feel warm!"

"Relax," Ron said with a yawn. It really was too hot to get worked up about anything. "Hermione's right. The Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we never had any proof that Snape figured out how to get around Fluffy. He's already nearly had his leg bitten off once, he won't be eager to try that again. And you know how Hagrid idolizes Dumbledore, Neville'll play for England before Hagrid let's him down."

"You know, Harry, I'd be the last person to agree with Weasley, but in this case he's right."

Harry looked up just in time to see Allie, back in jeans and a muggle band t-shirt for the first time since they'd come to Hogwarts, dangle down from one of the oak's branches. She let go, and dropped down, landing in a crouch before slowly straitening.

"I don't know what game Dumbledore's playing at, Harry," she said seriously. "Frankly I'm not sure if he knows either. But I do know that if Firenze hadn't shown up, we'd both of us have probably died in that forest."

She paused to let that sink in before continuing in a soft, deliberate tone. "Regardless of what Professor Snape does or does not know, _someone_ tried to get into the Forbidden Corridor when Hogwarts flooded. That same person tried to kill Padma. If whoever it was had been just a little more thorough, or if she'd been slightly less lucky, or if someone who knew CPR hadn't been there, or if Madam Pomfrey had been a touch slower, she _would_ have died.

"I've already nearly lost two friends, Harry. I don't want to lose one for real. Tell Dumbledore if you think it'll help, but otherwise stay away from it."

She started to say more, but then shook her head, turned, and walked away.

"Allie!" Harry called.

She stopped to look back at them. "Stay away from that damned Stone, Harry."

"I could've told you," Ron muttered sleepily. "Cowardly, disgusting slimy snake."

"She was agreeing with you, Weasley," Justin snapped.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry turned to find Padma and Parvati racing towards them.

"What is it?" he asked as they collapsed in the shade of the tree.

"He knows," Parvati panted. "Snape knows."

"Knows what?" Harry asked.

"Whoever…it is…that's af…after the Stone," Padma gasped. "He _knows_…how."

"To get past Fluffy!" Parvati finished in a rush.

Harry looked from Parvati to Padma and back.

"Hagrid told him," Parvati said.

"Nonsense," Hermione said flatly. "I don't care if Hagrid thinks Snape is a 'Hogwarts Professor'. He wouldn't take the risk. He knows that someone in the school is after it. He has to know. And he idolizes the Headmaster too much to give something like that away, even to someone he trusts."

"Not if he didn't think who he told wasn't someone in the school," Parvati said.

"What my sister means, is not if the person he tells is someone he doesn't think is at the school," Padma said, still breathing heavily.

Harry and the other first years traded looks. "Maybe you should tell it from the beginning."

"There isn't _time_," Parvati said. "He could be on his way to get the Stone right now!"

"We have to know what's going on if we're going to make any rational decisions," Hermione said.

"Fine," Parvati said. "It was Padma's idea to begin with."

"It occurred to me," Padma said. "That Hagrid always wanted a dragon. One showing up this year, right when the business with the Stone is going on, was more than a little suspicious. I mean, it could have been just a coincidence, but there's been too many things happening this year…"

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, so you went to see Hagrid…"

"So we went down to Hagrid's," Parvati said. "The guy who gave him the egg never lowered his hood, but that's not supposed to be uncommon in the pub, the Hog's Head. According to Hagrid this man got him drunk, drunk enough to make his memory kind of blurry."

"Must have cost him," Hermione said. "Hagrid's big."

Which was sort of like saying that Neville had some trouble with Potions, Harry thought. "And?" he pressed.

"And the guy wanted to know that the egg, Norbert, was going to a good home," Padma said. "Hagrid told him about Fluffy."

Harry traded looks with the others again. Ron was frowning, and Hermione had a troubled look and was biting her lip. Justin and Ernie were both looking rather grave.

"Are you…are you sure?" Harry asked.

"'Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts?'" Padma asked in a pretty good mimicry of Hagrid's accent. "Harry, whoever that was in the pub, knows how to get past Fluffy. It's almost certainly whoever is after the Stone."

"Snape," Parvati insisted. "He probably has contacts to smuggle a dragon egg into the country. Rare potion ingredients and the like."

The oppressive heat was forgotten as the seven first years headed for Hogwarts in silence. After the bright sun, the Hall was cold and gloomy.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," Harry said.

"But we haven't any proof," Hermione said.

"We don't have a choice," Harry insisted. "Firenze might back us up, if Bane lets him. Maybe Ronan and Dreammyst too."

"And if Hagrid will admit to telling the stranger about how to get past Fluffy, maybe it'll be enough to encourage Quirrell to take a stand against Snape as well," Padma said.

"You really think so?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"No, but I don't have any better ideas, do you?" Padma asked angrily. "This is so much bigger than us… Allie is right. You-Know-Who, Snape, whoever it is after that thing, is willing to kill for it. So we tell Dumbledore, and then we stay out of it."

"Tell Professor Dumbledore what, Ms. Patil?" McGonagall asked.

The first years traded nervous looks as the transfiguration professor stopped in front of them. She was carrying a great stack of books and exam parchments, and looked very hot and tired.

"It's kind of a secret," Harry hedged. But he could see that Professor McGonagall was having none of it so he quickly amended, "It's about the Philosopher's Stone, Professor."

Whatever Professor McGonagall had been thinking they were up to, that was not it. She was taken so by surprise that she dropped the stack of books which fell to the floor with a great _bang_.

Hermione and Padma both cringed at the sight, the Gryffindor quickly crouching down to pick them up.

"Enough of that," McGonagall said impatiently as she produced her wand and began swishing and flicking the books back into a stack.

Harry, saw his chance. "We think that Voldemort's after it," he said quickly as McGonagall cleaned up the spilled books. "We know—"

"You know far too much about things that don't concern you, Potter," McGonagall said tartly.

Harry was taken aback. McGonagall was very strict and often rather stiff, but she was also unfailingly polite. It was the first time he could recall her ever addressing a student by just their last name, and the acerbic bite in it twisted his name into sounding like something Snape would have said.

"But the Stone," he pressed on. "It isn't safe."

"The Stone is quite well protected, I assure you," McGonagall said. "Yes, even _you_, Ms. Patil. And you, Ms. Granger, I would have thought you smart enough to realize how…unwise it is to discuss certain topics where anyone could hear. Now, outside with the lot of you, or I'll follow through with my first inclination and put all of you in detention for the rest of the week."

"So now what do we do?" Ernie asked as they trudged back out to their tree. Malfoy and a handful of other Slytherins were already sitting there so they turned away and continued walking.

"Send a letter to Dumbledore, I guess," Harry said. "Maybe tell Cedric and Tonks when they're done with their exams."

"We can watch Snape and the Forbidden Corridor," Hermione said.

"I've got Snape," Padma said.

"Are you sure?" Parvati asked.

Her sister nodded. "It's after exams so he'll be in the staff lounge right now, I checked. He won't do anything to me with other teachers that close. Well, other than take points and give detentions. If he asks I can tell him that I'm waiting for Flitwick to talk about the exams."

"But what if he goes and actually gets Professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked.

"Then I tell him what we tried to tell Professor McGonagall," Padma said. "We should probably tell him anyway, and Sprout too. They were the ones that helped with the protections."

"So did Quirrell," Hermione pointed out, then sighed. "Not that I expect he'd be any help if we went to him."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry had never been in greenhouse four before. Under other circumstances he would have looked at the strange magical plants growing there. While he didn't have Neville's enthusiasm for the subject, he did enjoy being around magic and seeing new things was fun.

"Who's there?" Professor Sprout's voice asked from deep inside the greenhouse.

"Me, Professor, Harry," Harry said.

"Did something happen?" Sprout asked quickly.

"No," Harry said. "Well, yes, but…it's complicated."

"Well…" she said slowly. "If it isn't an emergency, why don't you come and tell me about it. Take care to stay on the path, dear."

Each of the greenhouses had a clearly defined path that was safe for people to walk on without fear of the plants. In the greenhouses the lower years used this was less of a necessity, but pathways were still marked to get them familiar with how the higher level greenhouses were arranged. He found Professor Sprout at the end of the greenhouse kneeling in front of a planting box that was wider across than Harry was tall.

"This, Harry, is assassin vine," Sprout said, indicating the plant she was transferring from a pot to the box. "It's a member of the kudzu family that has evolved a remarkable ability to fertilize itself by capturing small animals and spreading their remains around its roots. Someone left a seedling in a rather handsome pot in greenhouse three months ago. Now, what seems to be your problem? Post-exam nerves?"

"Er…no," Harry said. "It's about the Philosopher's Stone."

"I see," Sprout said, her voice rather flat as she gave him a steely-eyed look that was nothing at all like her normally warm, cheerful self. "Perhaps you had better explain."

So Harry did. He told her about meeting Hagrid in Diagon Alley and about Gringotts and the goblins. He told her about finding out that Gringotts had been broken into but the vault had been emptied earlier that day. He told her about Hagrid letting slip that it was a matter between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and about Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card that told them that Flamel was an alchemist, which led to the Stone.

He told her about Snape. About how he'd gotten his leg bitten by Fluffy during Halloween, how as soon as the presence of the troll was announced he went for the Stone, and their speculation that it was Snape who had let the troll loose in the dungeons. He told her about the Forbidden Forest, how he and Allie were attacked, and about how Voldemort was drinking unicorn blood. He told her how his scar had hurt in the Forest, in the Great Hall when Snape stared at him the first day, and how it had been hurting since and his suspicions that it was some kind of warning.

He hesitated, but then told her about Hagrid, and Norbert, and how Hagrid had admitted to telling a stranger about Fluffy.

Through it all she sat and listened.

When at last he was finished she sat down the trowel she had been using to arrange the dirt just-so around the assassin vine, and rocked back to sit on her heels. "Have you told anyone else all of this?" she asked.

"Professor McGonagall stopped us in the Entrance Hall when we were looking for Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "I told her the Stone was in danger, but she didn't let me explain."

"No, she wouldn't have, especially not there," Professor Sprout told him. "You'd have done better to ask to speak to her in private."

"I'll remember that next time," Harry said.

"There shouldn't _be_ a 'next time,'" Professor Sprout said tartly. "Still…in this case I think you may have a point, but we are strictly limited in what we can do. I doubt we can enhance the protections any further at this late date."

"What about putting a guard on it, or even taking it out of the school?" Harry asked. "That worked for Gringotts."

"And if there was another placed prepared for it I might suggest we do just that, but we don't," Sprout said. "Or, if there is one, it isn't one that I am privy to the knowledge of, Harry. Furthermore, the Headmaster was the last one to emplace protections. Only he knows how to get past them. It could well be that You-Know-Who has allowed you to learn what you have with the intention that we professors together are able to pierce this final layer of defense, and then seize the Stone once it has been brought into the open."

"He could have done that?" Harry asked.

"You-Know-Who is as dark and as evil a wizard as ever there was," Sprout said in a serious tone that was devoid of any of her usual good humor. "But just because he is evil does not mean he is stupid. Far from it. One of the reasons that even a decade after he vanished people still fear to say his name is because of how frightfully intelligent he was. He could easily have a half-dozen different plans to gain the Stone, through trickery and deception to out-right force. I do not say this to frighten you, Harry, though only a very foolish person would not be afraid, but so that you can understand the seriousness of the situation you have found yourself in."

"What about guards?" Harry asked.

"And whom would you entrust with watching, your fellow students?" Sprout asked. "You do not think that You-Know-Who has failed to recognize their potential as hostages, do you? And these attacks and attempts might just as easily have been conducted by a seventh, or perhaps a sixth year—maybe even a fifth year, if he or she had You-Know-Who's guidance.

"And even if that were not an issue, who would you trust with actually guarding it?" Sprout continued wryly. "There are a great many ways of disguising yourself as someone else. Your evidence against Professor Snape is wholly circumstantial. For all you know it could have been planted to make him look guilty, and I or Professor McGonagall could have been acting as You-Know-Who's agent for the past year."

Harry hadn't thought about this at all, though he rather suspected that Allie would have if he'd asked her. The twisted logic and serious demeanor, so alien to his Head of House's normal cheerful forthrightness, made the whole situation seem oddly surreal.

And he had the strangest sense of déjà vu. As though he had been through this moment before, only it had gone very differently.

Professor Sprout offered him a grim version of her usual smile. "Didn't think of any of that, did you?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," Harry admitted. "I can't say that I did. Uh, who would normally be responsible for Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who? Is there a magical army or something we could call?"

"There is, the Aurors—"

"You mean the, uh, police that Tonks wants to join?" Harry blurted.

"The same," Professor Sprout said approvingly. "They normally have responsibility for stopping dark wizards and witches. Under the circumstances I'm not sure how much help they would be. Try to see it from their perspective, Harry. A first year claims to have confronted the dark wizard he somehow defeated as a baby, and is now attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone—an artifact that is very nearly myth even in the wizarding world—from the very halls of Hogwarts."

"You don't think they'll believe me," Harry said flatly.

Professor Sprout nodded before sighing heavily. "Unfortunately, as Professor McGonagall made you aware, the Headmaster is in London at the moment."

"We sent him an owl," Harry said.

"An owl?"

"Hedwig," Harry said. "It just…seemed the sensible thing to do, since Professor McGonagall didn't want to listen."

"Well, Hedwig is a very sensible bird," Professor Sprout said. "Under other circumstances there are many faster ways of making contact. Unfortunately the floo is down, which hinders both communication and travel."

"It is?" Harry asked. "What can cause a magical fireplace to not work?"

"Maintenance," Professor Sprout said. Harry made have made a face or something because she hurried to explain. "Oh not the magic, that works just fine. The problem is that the floo is linked to fireplaces. Every so often the fires must be extinguished and the chimneys cleaned of creosote buildup.

"There are other methods of travel that are nearly as fast, though they too are not without their disadvantages. Unfortunately, the floo makes for fast and convenient communication and there is something of a lack in the way of alternatives. And quite frankly, I'm not sure which of the Headmaster's other responsibilities drew him to London, and even if I did it might be some time before he could escape them."

"But then what do we do?" Harry asked.

"You have brought the matter to my attention, Harry," Professor Sprout said not unkindly. "That alone is more than I would expect of a first year, no matter how talented. Now it is the responsibility of the professors to deal with. I'm quite confident that Professor McGonagall will know how to contact the Headmaster in case of emergency; she is his Deputy Headmistress after all. In the meantime, I suggest you do as Professor McGonagall instructed, Harry. Try to enjoy the rest of the day. I'm certain the Headmaster is going to want a full accounting when he returns from London."

\|/\|/\|/

But Harry did not go outside and enjoy the rest of the day. He didn't even return to the Hufflepuff common room. Instead he took off through the back halls and seldom used staircases, uncomfortably aware of the portraits and suits of armor, as though they were tracking his movements and reporting them back to McGonagall or perhaps whoever was in league with Voldemort. Arriving in one particularly deserted cross-hall, devoid of even portrait, statue, or bust, he slipped into a secret passageway. It was close and cramped and very dirty, but it let out in a small foyer that was only a short walk from the gallery that led to the Tower of Turmoil.

Hermione and Ron weren't there, and neither was Allie, but the rest of his friends were.

"What did Professor Sprout say?" Tonks demanded as soon as he entered.

"That there isn't a lot they can do," Harry said. "She said that everything we have on Snape could have been planted or manipulated to make him look guilty so that whoever is really looking for Voldemort isn't suspected—"

"_Must_ you keep saying his name?" Tonks asked.

Harry ignored her. "She said that _we_ could have been manipulated so that the professors think that the Stone is in danger."

"What good would that do?" Ernie asked.

"They would remove it from whatever they have guarding it to move it somewhere else," Padma said. "That would make the Stone more vulnerable, not less."

"Which is what Professor Sprout said," Harry said. "Plus, there is the little matter that they don't _have_ anywhere else to put it."

"What about guards?" Tonks said. "The Aurors—"

"Wouldn't believe me," Harry said.

"Why not?" she asked outraged. "This is what they _do_, Harry."

"Professor Sprout didn't think they'd believe a first year," Harry said disgustedly. "Especially since _I_'m supposed to have gotten rid of Voldemort in the first place."

"To be fair, Harry, it does sound a little fantastic," Cedric said.

"What if I don't _want_ to be fair?" Harry snapped. "Ever since I entered the wizarding world people have been staring at me, and whispering behind my back, and staring at my scar, and asking if I remembered anything from that night. If I remembered Voldemort murdering my parents.

"Well I don't remember, okay? I don't remember and no, I don't know what happened to him. Whatever it was I saw in the Forbidden Forest it was…less than a person. Is it really too much to ask for the rest of the wizarding world to stop flinching at his name for five seconds to grow a spine and finish the job? Do they _want_ him to get his hands on the Stone, to come back at the height of his powers?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortably aware that his friends were now staring at him in much the same manner—though for none of the same reasons—that people in the wizarding world stared at him.

"Sorry, Cedric," he said awkwardly, "guys, you didn't deserve that.

Cedric returned his look levelly for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe not, Harry," he allowed. "But I think you needed to say it."

Harry nodded, but he still felt awkward about it. He got up from the chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and began to pace. "So…" he said.

"I talked with Professor Flitwick," Padma said. "I'm not sure if he believed me or not, but he did listen. He told me that 'appropriate measures will be taken,' but refused to go into details. From what he said, he has the same concerns Professor Sprout has, and that there are issues of just how much they can do at such short notice."

"And they have to keep an eye on us," Harry said. "Sprout mentioned the potential for the students to become hostages. He could have a half-dozen plans going at once to get the Stone, and those just the ones _we_ have thought of, is what Professor Sprout told me. Where are Hermione and Ron?"

"The owlery," Justin said.

"Still?"

"Hermione has this neat little charm that she uses to copy her notes," Parvati said. "She needs blank parchment and can only do one at a time, but I think she might be copying several hundred letters and sending out all of the owls in the owlery in case You-Know-Who has a way of intercepting them."

"Show off," Padma muttered.

"Do you think they'll make it in time?" Tonks asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know how long it takes an owl to get to London, do you?"

The others in the tower traded looks and shrugs.

"What about the floo?" Ernie asked. "We could contact the Ministry a lot more quickly with it."

"It's blazing hot today. Have you seen a lit fireplace?" Padma asked.

"Professor Sprout said that it wasn't working," Harry said. "That the fireplaces were cold because the chimneys needed to be cleaned. And she wasn't certain where at the Ministry he was. Remember all those jobs that Professor Dumbledore has? The wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards and the rest? I wouldn't know where to begin calling."

"So that's it then?" Ernie asked. "The Professors aren't going to be able to do anything more because of the late notice and the Law Enforcement Patrol wouldn't believe us? Snape gets the stone, hands it over to _him_, and, that's it?"

_Not if we get it first_, Harry thought before dismissing the notion. He turned back to find everyone in the tower staring at him.

"You're mad, you know that don't you?" Padma asked, breaking the silence. "Because I thought I heard you say "not if we get it first"."

"It wasn't your hearing," Parvati said. "I heard it too." The twins traded considering looks, then Parvati turned to Harry. "Let's do it."

"Whoa, hold it," Harry said. "I may have _thought_ it but I didn't mean to actually do it. _Quirrell_ has more experience than the lot of us together and would we want to trust _him_ with this?"

"You mean to want to sit here and do nothing?" Parvati demanded.

"What else _can_ we do?" Harry asked helplessly. "Even if we do get the Stone what would we do with it?"

"We bring it here," Parvati said. "We change the password and don't come out until Dumbledore's back."

"And if Snape attacks us before we get it here?" Tonks asked. "I'm pretty good at DADA, but Snape's supposed to know an awful lot about the Dark Arts. I don't think I could take him by myself and having you lot around would make fighting him harder, not easier, because I'd have to fight to protect you too. I'd like to do something as much as you do, Parvati, but I can't think of anything we could do that wouldn't make the situation worse."

"We can at least post guards or something," Justin said.

"You don't think that one of the first things the Professors will do is put up a spell to alert them if anyone is even _by_ the Forbidden Corridor, if they don't already have something to do just that?" Cedric pointed out. "Don't forget what happened to Padma the last time one of us ran across Snape or whoever is helping You-Know-Who."

"So we don't stand right in the corridor," Justin said. "Harry still has his cloak, right? What if we trade off walking past the corridor while wearing it? Even if there is something to alert the Professors when someone happens by, they have to have some way of filtering out students."

"Justin's right," Ernie said. "We may not be able to stop Snape from getting past us, but at least we'll be able to go to the Professors and tell them it's happening _right now_."

They turned expectantly to Harry who shrugged and looked at Tonks.

"Alright," the seventh year said slowly, "But Cedric and I are taking the first watch. If anything happens it'll happen then."

"I'll come too," Padma said.

"You will?" her sister asked.

"Flitwick's quarters are closest," Padma said. "I can go for him while the rest of you go for McGonagall and Sprout."

"Fine, but if you are then so am I," Parvati said.


	24. Chapter 24: Into the Lion's Den

Chapter 24 –Into the Lion's Den

"Part of the magic of heroes and heroines has always been their ability to embody a vision of life that at the moment is not yet developed enough…Heroes are not always just reflection of what has already happened but are also harbingers of what is to come."

-Todd Brennan-

"Harry? _Harry!_"

Harry jerked out of sleep to find Parvati pulling at his arm and hissing in his ear. "Whz't?" he asked, not particularly intelligibly.

"It's happening," Parvati hissed. "It's happening _right now_."

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Quiet, do you want to wake everyone?" she demanded

He was going to wake Justin and Ernie anyway so waking them would be no loss. Zacharias Smith, however, was a different story.

"Okay, I'm awake," he whispered back. "What is it?"

"Cedric saw Snape, or someone who dressed like him, going into the Forbidden Corridor," Parvati whispered in a rush. "Tonks is going after and sent us to raise the alarm."

"Why are you _here_?" Harry hissed. "You should be getting Flitwick. That was the plan."

"We did, or Padma did. He said that there was a spell on the door to alert him if it was opened and it hadn't gone off. She thinks different Professors are watching different alarm spells in case one of them is compromised. I wasn't with her when she told him. She told me he was really mad about her being out, though. I know he sent her back to Ravenclaw Tower and told her he'd come up with an appropriate punishment in the morning."

"Which will be about six hours too late," Harry said, looking at the brass alarm clock on his bedside cupboard.

"What are we going to do?" Parvati asked.

"Did Padma actually go to the Tower?"

"No, she's waiting downstairs."

"'Okay, we're going to wake Justin and Ernie," Harry said. "I'll explain when we're downstairs."

Parvati nodded. Together they woke the other two Hufflepuff first years, and the boys pulled on robes over their pajamas as well as shoes for the stone floors of Hogwarts were quite cold.

"Padma, Parvati, and I are going after Tonks," Harry said when they were all in the common room. He had known he was going to go from the time Padma had woken him. It might not be the smartest or most cunning of moves, and no doubt Ron would take it as further proof that Harry should have been Sorted into Gryffindor, but his decision wasn't about courage either, not really. When it came down to it, Tonks and Cedric were his friends and he had something that could help.

And if he could help, well, he couldn't _not_ help. It wouldn't be loyal.

"Are you crazy?" Ernie asked. "You may have bested You-Know-Who as a baby, but you don't know how you did it. You may have power, Harry, but you don't have any idea how to use it or even if you can still use it."

"No," Harry agreed. He reached into his pajama shirt and came up with the phoenix amulet on its leather cord. "But I have this. Judging from the way Voldemort acted in the Forest, and it was probably him back in that blizzard too, it has some power. If nothing else he really didn't like it, which I figure means it can hurt him, or make it harder for him to…be around, I suppose. That could go a long way in evening the odds between him and Tonks.

"I may need help getting through whatever the Professors put up to guard the Stone, assuming any of them are left and he hasn't simply blasted his way past them. And if nothing else, they can run back to the Professors with more information. Maybe if we know what they did to protect the Stone they'll be more inclined to believe us."

"What do you want us to do, Harry?" Justin asked.

"Padma already told Flitwick, so I suppose you two have to warn Professor Sprout," Harry said.

Justin hesitated. "I know she said that she was sitting this out, Harry, but have you thought about telling Allie?"

Harry shook his head. "I think of the four of you, Padma will be the most help to me in getting past any traps. If she comes with me, so will Parvati, and neither of you can get into the girl's dorms." Hermione easily had the top marks in their years locked in, but Padma's were nearly as good. He didn't want to take time getting Hermione, and Allie had made her feelings clear.

"We could send the Fat Friar."

"Only the House Ghosts can go into the common rooms and I've never heard of one going into the dorms," Padma said. "Besides, have you seen any of the ghosts tonight? I haven't."

\|/\|/\|/

The invisibility cloak had made him spoiled.

It was the only conclusion Harry could come to as, for the first time in months, he felt nervous about sneaking around the corridors after curfew. He was constantly watching the pictures and portraits, waiting for one of the portraits to crack open an eye and sound the alarm of students out in the halls. He stared at the suits of armor whenever he past one, certain that they saw him and were just waiting for the proper moment to strike. A drought made him shiver, and he scanned up and down the hall, expecting a ghost to suddenly make itself visible. A sound would make him freeze, certain that Mrs. Norris was just around the corner.

But none of the paintings woke, nor did any of the suits of armor or statues suddenly start moving on their own. No ghosts appeared—even Peeves was nowhere to be found—and Mrs. Norris was never to be found lurking around a corner, or watching maliciously from a perch.

The way to the Forbidden Corridor lay strangely wide open. The staircases did not suddenly twist or veer in some unexpected direction—to be fair, no one Harry had asked could ever recall seeing the staircases change positions, but he was sure that sooner or later there would be a first time. There were no mysterious walls in his way requiring detours. No doors were locked or grates pulled across the way, requiring them to cast what unlocking spells they knew or to find a way around via secret passages.

It was almost as though someone or something, perhaps even Hogwarts itself, wanted Harry to make his way to the Forbidden Corridor unmolested.

At last they reached the small antechamber that led to the Forbidden Corridor, the same room in which Padma had been severely injured. The cloak, which Tonks and Cedric had been using while keeping watch, lay in a silvery pool on the ground.

"Well," the Ravenclaw said, "now we know why Professor Flitwick didn't hear an alarm."

Harry nodded mutely as he folded the cloak up and tucked it into his robes. The center of the iron-bound oak door had been blasted into the Forbidden Corridor. A thin frame of wood and metal, all that was left of the door itself, was still secured inside the frame itself by the great iron hinges and locks. The door itself had neither been opened nor even unlocked.

"_Lumos_." He winced at the whispered spell caused his wand to blaze forth into light. Holding it up out of the way he fished out the phoenix amulet. It glowed softly in the darkness, but it was quite cool to the touch.

"Well?" Parvati asked.

"It's cool," Harry said.

"That's good, right?"

"If it wasn't magically cooled it could mean that Snape already as the Stone and has left," Padma said. "How are you planning on getting past Fluffy?"

"I brought that bird-song flute Hagrid gave me for Christmas," Harry said. "You might want to light your wands."

Without waiting for a response he stepped through the shattered door.

His wand went out the moment he crossed the threshold, as did the amulet.

"Harry?" Parvati called.

"I'm alright," Harry called back. He couldn't hear Fluffy. Last time the giant three-headed dog had immediately started barking. What had changed?

"My wand and the amulet cut out," he said, trying to get his wand to glow again to no avail. "I think it might be a no-magic area like Allie uses."

"Let me shine my wand in," Padma said.

"Won't it stop working too?" Harry asked.

"The light _source_ is magical, Harry. Not the light itself," Padma said, shining her wand through the door, taking care not to accidentally let the wand cross the threshold.

Harry immediately wished she hadn't.

Fluffy was dead.

Thick bloody froth was mounded around his muzzles like a vile meringue. Open eyes were glazed-over and cloudy.

Harry turned away before he could see anymore, and spotted an unlit torch lying on the floor. He picked it back up and stepped back out of the room.

"What is it?" Parvati asked. "What did you see?"'

"Fluffy," Harry said. "He's dead."

"Hagrid will be crushed," Padma said, not sounding particularly sympathetic. "What are you going to do with that torch, Harry?"

"We have no way of knowing for how far magic will be useless," Harry said, focusing on the torch. He had been practicing on an off with candles for most of the year, and had even lit a few fireplaces, though only by lighting a few twigs and using them to get the fire going. This was the largest thing he'd tried yet. A wisp of smoke rose from its wick. Then a tiny flicker of flame that quickly grew into a good solid blaze. He left the phoenix amulet hanging down against his robes, but put away his wand so that he could use both hands to carry the torch.

Padma and Parvati followed him back into the room, the Gryffindor moaning slightly at the sight of the dead Fluffy. Parvati held a hand over her mouth and looked faintly green in the light of the torch, while Padma's grim expression was half cast in disturbing shadows. "Well," she said, "now we know."

Harry nodded and tried to pull the door open. It refused to budge.

"We tried unlocking spells, but it's been charmed against them," Padma said. "I don't suppose you know how to unlock it without magic."

Harry shook his head. Picking locks was one skill that Allie hadn't passed on. He set the burning end of the torch to the wooden remains of the door. Surprisingly the wood quickly caught fire. Whether or not it would burn quickly enough to bring Professor Flitwick he didn't know.

The trapdoor that Fluffy had been guarding was open and lay half askew. One set of hinges had been ripped apart, and the last set was twisted out of alignment, making it impossible to shut without magic.

"There's nothing for it," Padma said. "We have to jump."

Harry stared down the hole in the floor. It was very dark and impossible to determine how far down it went.

"If you two stand around like that we'll be here forever," Parvati said.

"Wait, 'Vati—" Padma called.

But Parvati did not wait. She stepped past Harry, slipped her sister's grasp, and jumped down the hole.

Harry and Padma traded troubled looks.

"Come on down," Parvati's voice echoed up. "The landing's soft enough."

"I'm going first," Padma said grimly. "I have a few things I need to discuss with my sister. Throw down the torch before you jump so you don't accidentally bean yourself with it."

Harry nodded in agreement and watched Padma disappear into the hole. After a moment Padma's voice echoed up at him and he tossed down the torch, counted to ten to give them a chance to pull it out of the way, then jumped himself.

He was aware of stone walls flashing past very close to his face and was beginning to wonder if the drop had shifted somehow, like the staircases did, and if his landing was going to be much more sudden and painful than Parvati's apparently was. Then he landed in something thick and sort of cushiony, if not particularly soft. For a moment it felt like he'd fallen into a giant net made of a bunch of ropes slung chaotically across the chute.

Padma appeared with the torch and Parvati began to help him down. By the light of the torch Harry could see that what he thought were ropes were vines. Dead vines from the looks of things.

"Devil's Snare," Padma said. "One of the upper years said that Professor Sprout had a prized specimen that was the largest in Europe, but I didn't believe him. Looks like I owe Davis an apology."

"I thought Devil's Snare was dangerous," Harry said.

"It is," Padma said. "See how dark these vines are? This one's been poisoned."

Harry turned away from the dead plant. The chamber they were in was much smaller than Fluffy's room and the light of the torch was bright enough to illuminate the walls, which were covered with carved runes.

"We need to be careful," Padma said. "I think those are wards."

"No," Harry said. "They're what make this area magic-free. I've seen them before. Allie used them."

"The same patterns exactly?" Parvati asked excitedly. "If that's the case, maybe we should go back and get Allie. She might know the way there after all."

"Why would she know that?"

"Rune-work isn't exact, Harry," Padma explained. "I know enough to know that there are slight variations from one person to the next. If these are exactly the same it means the same person carved them."

"Oh," Harry said. He held the torch closer to a section of wall and examined the runes. "They're similar," he said finally. "I only saw Allie's briefly so I'm not really sure. Besides, she said she didn't want to get involved, remember? Why would she say that if she had already agreed to help guard the Stone?"

"Because maybe she thinks staying away _is_ guarding the Stone?" Parvati asked.

"Besides which, she was concerned for _our_ safety, remember?" Padma asked.

"So?" Harry asked.

"So, can you think of a better way of convincing you not to involve her than her telling you that she didn't want to be involved?" Padma asked.

Harry didn't reply as he stepped into the tunnel leading from the small room.

They hurried down the tunnel, the flickering torch creating odd shadows in the runes etched deeply into the rock walls. Abruptly the runes stopped.

Two steps later the torch snuffed out, plunging them into ebon blackness.

Parvati cried out as something clanked and slammed shut behind them.

Gentle wand-light filled the tunnel as Padma lit her wand. It was a wan, feeble this close to the magic-nullification wards, but it was better than nothing. She shone it behind them. A great iron gate was barring the way back.

"'There is no retreat from here men,'" Padma said.

"Oh _that_ is a cheery thought," her sister said.

Padma shrugged. "It was something I heard once, a mundane saying, I think."

Harry turned away from the gate that blocked the way back and had to stop and stare.

They were in a giant room. Large stone basins that were filled with fire lined the walls, and the ceiling curved up into darkness overhead.

"What is this?" Parvati asked, stepping out into the room.

Harry shook his head. He could no more begin to divine the purpose of the room than he could fly without a broomstick.

"Some kind of arena, maybe?" Padma asked uncertainly as she followed her sister and Harry as they started across the room.

"For what purpose?" Parvati returned.

"I don't know, it's like…an indoor Quidditch pitch or something, if they used stone instead of grass," Padma said.

Harry had to concede that Padma had a point, at least where the sheer size of the room was concerned. It had to be at least as far across as the Great Hall was long, and the ceiling had to be pretty high up to be cast into such deep shadow.

"It's circular, though," he said. "Quidditch pitches are oval, and I didn't see any scoring hoops or markers for the scoring zone. Look at how high the ceiling is. I didn't think we came down so far."

"Hogwarts must be moving itself around again," Parvati said. "Maybe that was part of the defenses."

Harry wasn't so certain. Oh, it made sense that there was something magical about how far they had travelled and the size of the room. But if Hogwarts had moved things around to help defend the Stone, it would have made more sense to put the Stone in a sealed room. A room with no doors or windows that no one knew where it was, much less how to get there or get in.

His foot struck something and there was the sound of metal skittering across the stone floor.

Padma and Parvati shone their wand-lights around and something metal glinted from ahead of them.

Harry walked over. Lying on the ground was a bronze key. Tiny stubs near the handle gave mute testimony to something haven been broken off. He picked up the key. In the light of the torch and Parvati's wand he could see tiny bronze feathers attached to the stubs,

"Feathers?" Parvati asked.

"Wings, maybe?" Harry asked, twisting the key around for a closer look.

The key glinted, and then suddenly it wasn't a key anymore. As Harry watched, the end that was meant to go into a lock melted and reformed into a plain steel blade. But it looked…wrong

It was a transfiguration. An object-to-object that didn't involve any living tissue wasn't a particularly complex task, though Harry wasn't certain how difficult it was if one or both objects were enchanted. Most transfigurations were not instantaneous, though speed, McGonagall had said, was often indicative of the complexity of the spell and the caster's relative strength and familiarity with the spell. She had even magically slowed down several transfigurations so that they could observe changes.

This was sort of like that. In those examples that McGonagall had shown them the changes were…smooth, these ones were not. The metal _should_ have rippled and then slowly reformed, sort of like it would look like for water to rush out of one container and into a second with a different shape. Instead the transfiguration kept stopping and starting. One section of metal would 'freeze' in a new shape while others would continue, then it would unfreeze and continue.

Harry was so caught up in watching it he didn't consider what the purpose of such a transfiguration could be.

Red-orange firelight gave the almost-knife Harry held the color of blood.

Then it twisted in his hand and tried to plunge itself into his side.

Harry dropped the knife as soon as it jerked in his grip, and only a stub of a broken wing getting caught in his sleeve saved him.

Parvati batted it away, the jagged metal ripping his sleeve, as the knife was sent clattering to the floor once more.

The knife twisted on the ground and sort of half-hovered in the air as it tried to attack Harry once again, but Harry was no longer standing still. Like a Beater intent on sending a Bludger at a Seeker passing below him, Harry brought the torch down so quickly that it made a whirring sound and the flame guttered. The torch slamming it into the stone floor was too much for the transfigured weapon. Some combination of damage it had already suffered, the heat of the flame, or the impact of the torch striking it, caused the blade to snap off just in front of the hilt and shatter.

They resumed walking. Another key glittered in the light, then another, and another…

Pretty soon they had to pick their way with care lest they activate more of the key-knifes. Most clinked on the stone as they passed, turning over, or twisting about. Two of the key-knifes they hadn't managed to avoid took to the air, but were so slow and feeble that Harry had no trouble at all in batting them away.

"Interesting," Padma said, pausing briefly to examine two keys more closely but taking care not to touch them.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hmm?"

"You said that the keys were interesting," Harry said, tiptoeing through a particularly dense patch of keys.

"Yes," Padma said. "Have you noticed that all of the keys are exactly the same?"

"They are?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes. Not the damage," Padma cautioned, "But if you look, both the handles and the bits—the part that actually goes inside the lock and opens it—are exactly the same from one key to the next."

"Which means what, exactly?" Parvati asked. Then, quickly, "besides that they can all be used to open the same lock, I mean." She paused, "or fillet us like a trout."

"I'm not certain," Padma said as they reached the center of the hall.

There was a rack with a half-dozen brooms on it, but all had been shattered and their tails burned.

Harry looked them over, but they were all quite unusable.

"You know, Padma, you might be right."

"About what, Harry?"

"When you called this place a Quidditch pitch," Harry said. "I bet there was one key in particular that didn't match the others. If they had wings, that meant they probably flew. The other keys were meant as decoys, and would turn into knifes and kill you if you picked the wrong one."

"I bet the broom rack was charmed too," Padma said. "People who were supposed to be here would know which broom to take, while the others activated the keys." She looked around the giant room and shivered.

"What is it?" Parvati instantly asked.

"Don't you get it?" Padma asked.

Harry and Parvati both shook her heads.

"This one isn't like Fluffy," Padma said with a grim expression. "This isn't a warning. If you got here and weren't supposed to be here, you weren't meant to ever get out. This place was meant to kill."

Harry and Parvati traded looks.

"Snape's already past here," Harry said.

"We should go back," Padma said. "The other traps aren't likely to be any safer, and we don't know if they've been disabled as badly as this one. Maybe if I tell Flitwick about…this, he'll believe me this time."

"And if he doesn't?" Parvati asked. "Or if he's too _late_?"

Harry cut them off. "Look. If it was just us, then I'd say go back in a heartbeat and do the same thing we did before, having a few people keep watch while the rest tried to get the teachers. But Tonks is still down here, she may need our help."

Padma stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. "_Now_ I understand what they meant."

"Understood what who meant?" Harry asked.

"The upper years," Padma said as she started walking again, still taking care to avoid the trapped keys. "They said that Gryffindors and Slytherins are both predictable, but the Hufflepuffs will do the strangest things sometimes in the name of 'loyalty' and 'fair-play'."

"Fair-play isn't one of our qualities," Harry said, feeling rather disgruntled as he picked his way through the keys in her wake. "Loyalty and hard-work, those are our prized qualities. I don't remember 'fair-play' in the manual."

"You have a _manual_?

They passed into another tunnel with runes etched into the walls. Unlike the last connecting tunnel, Padma's and Parvati's wands didn't go out. It was possible that the runes and wards were meant for a different purpose, but it was equally likely that whatever magic had guarded this area had been disrupted. The air was cloudy with dust, and piles of shattered stone covered the floor. Great chunks were missing from the walls and the ceiling, likely blasted out by magic of some kind, and what was left looked pock-marked and unfinished.

Harry hurried down the tunnel, still with the torch held high just in case. He hadn't gone very far, however, before he arrived at an intersection. "So now what do we do?"

Padma gave a half-shrug as she shone her wand-light back and forth between the three passages. "I don't know…" she paused and abruptly flicked her wand back towards the center passage, then whirled around and shone it back down the tunnel they had come through. "We're turned around."

"What?" Harry asked.

"We came down this passage," Padma said, using her wand to indicate the center passage, "and somehow it turned us around. See that blown out chunk of wall, looks sort of like Australia? We passed right by it."

"So if the way back is the way forward, then forward is the way back," Parvati said, picking up a chunk of blasted rock from the floor.

"No, wait!" her sister cried, reaching out. But it was too late. Parvati tossed the piece of stone into the hall behind them. The hall that, while lacking runes inscribed in its ceiling and walls, was untouched by spell-damage.

A great gout of flame jetted out of a wall. The rock, rapidly heated until it was glowing, exploded a moment later pelting the three first-years with hot, sharp pieces of stone.

Harry winced as he cut a finger on a jagged shard. He turned at Padma's hiss in time to see her flick away a splinter of stone.

"_That_ was a great idea," Padma said.

"We know not to go that way now," Parvati said.

"Great, what are you going to do next?" Padma asked sarcastically. "Flip a coin?"

"We go right," Parvati said.

"Why?"

"The truth is the right of the righteous."

"Is that a Gryffindor saying?" Padma asked as Parvati took a step down the other corridor.

"Actually I—" Parvati had turned back to face them, and now stood frozen.

"Parvati?" Padma asked.

"Pad?" Parvati asked in an unusually quiet voice. "Padma?" she asked, somewhat more loudly. She pressed her left hand to something before her, and the light from her wand seemed to sort of congeal in mid-air, not reaching to where Harry and Padma still stood in the middle of the intersecting corridors."

"Parvati?" Padma called again, reaching out for her sister.

Harry grabbed her by the back of her robes, and pulled her back.

"Let me go!" she cried, twisting in her robes.

"Padma!" Parvati shouted, banging against the air with one first

Harry was forced to drop the torch as Padma hit him. If living with Dudley had taught Harry how to run far and fast, it had also taught him how to take a hit. After all, the less Dudley managed to hurt him with the first punch often meant a greater chance for him to break away and escape. Padma, however, had never had cause or opportunity to learn Dudley's side of the respective skill-set.

Harry managed to get his hands up before the second blow, having abandoned his grip on the Ravenclaw's robes as well as the torch. He took the next two hits on his arms, then caught hers outside of his and pushed them out wide. "Padma," he called, wrapping the struggling girl up so that there was less of a chance of her slugging him. "Padma, listen to me. We don't know what's going on here. We have to think our way through this or it's going to get all of us killed."

"So are you saying we should just abandon her?" Padma snapped.

"Hey, guys!" Parvati said, hitting whatever was between them. It made a strangely dull and rather hollow echoing sound. "I can still hear you!" she continued. "I think this is the way we needed to go. I'll continue, but since you can't follow me—"

"Stay right there!" Harry shouted before she could finish.

Parvati paused. "Harry?"

"We can still see you," Harry said as Padma stopped struggling in his arms. "It's like the wall is…one way. Or maybe it's just invisible from this angle?"

"Then why could Parvati walk through it?" Padma asked.

"Padma?" Harry asked as she slowly pulling away from him.

"I'm okay, Harry," she said, sounding rather detached and not at all okay, but at least thinking about the problem rather than possibly making things worth.

"So you can come this way too," Parvati said. "What are you waiting for?"

"Harry's right," Padma said. "We don't know what's going on here, or if that's the way we should be going."

"Well…nothing has tried to kill me."

"Not yet, for all you know it dead ends around the next corner, or there's a pit-trap filled with sharp spikes or crocodiles or something."

"Rather cold for crocodiles, don't you think?" Harry asked.

"Fine, a trap filled with a water-monster with tentacles and sharp teeth and an appetite because no one has fallen into its trap since September. Happy?" Padma asked.

"Oh yes," Parvati said. "Because tentacle monsters make everything better."

"I'm glad you think so," Padma replied, apparently oblivious to the sarcastic edge in her sister's voice. "My point is, you don't know that you're not in danger," Padma said. "So tell me, what was wrong with the left-hand passage?"

"Well…" Parvati ducked her head and muttered something.

"Can you repeat that?"

"The left is for losers," Parvati said.

"Now _that_ definitely sounds like a Gryffindorism," Padma said, rolling her eyes and turning her wand down the forsaken passage. "Harry, do you see…"

Harry frowned as Padma played the light of her wand over a section of wall that looked…_slick._ Sort of like the kind of wax that dripped down the side of a candlestick and hardened again. "More spell-damage, you think?"

Padma nodded. "Parvati, can you see anything that looks like spell-damage?"

"No," Parvati said, barely looking around. "Why?"

"Try again, and this time actually look," Padma instructed.

Parvati did as her sister said, but at last she turned back to the wall. "No. Nothing."

Padma said a word that made her sister do a double-take. After a moment she walked right up to the edge of the intersection. For a moment she stood there, and then, too quickly for Harry to intervene again, she reached into the corridor, latched onto the front of Parvati's robes, and as the Gryffindor's eyes suddenly widened, Padma jerked her sister towards the intersecting corridors.

The Ravenclaw twisted out of the way as Parvati made a very undignified squawk and landed on the floor.

"How'd you know that was going to work?" Harry asked as he helped Parvati up.

"I didn't," Padma said.

"What if it hadn't?" Parvati asked, rubbing an elbow from where she had landed funny.

"Then I figured that since you weren't in any immediate danger, you could sit there until Dumbledore came."

"I meant about the _wall_," Parvati said. "You would have pulled me right into it."

"No more than you would have deserved. Now, shall we?" Padma asked, gesturing to the other corridor. "And you still haven't said where you got that first line from."

"What makes you think it wasn't a Gryffindor saying?"

"Besides you asking that question?"

Parvati scowled, then turned down the left-hand corridor. "It was a paraphrase from the _Vishnu Purana_."

Harry watched as Padma's lips moved for a moment.

"Mercy is the might of the righteous?" she asked. "Really?"

"I like mine better, it alliterates."

"I'm surprised you know what the word means," Padma muttered.

"Granger has a word-a-day calendar."

"Really? That's so…mundane."

"She also has spell-a-day, charm-a-day, transfiguration-a-day, plant-a-day, and potion-a-day calendars."

\|/\|/\|/

By staying to the spell-damaged paths they avoided most of the dead-ends and many other trick-walls. A few paths that went nowhere were damaged, and those often led them momentarily astray, but the various traps that they held all seemed to have been disarmed, deactivated, or (most commonly) destroyed.

Still, these were the simplest of the challenges and took of a great deal of time. The most basic variant of the trick intersection, like the one they had encountered first, merely flipped their direction of travel. Others would orient them to the left or right, or not do anything at all which would still take a few seconds to work out. After they came back from their third wrong-turn the rearrangement grew more confused. They actually started up the corridor they had originally come from (it was one spot to the left of where it should have been even accounting for the rearranging) before realizing their mistake and going back to the cross-corridor where they had to split up to tell the one they needed from the one they had already explores.

One low, broad hall that was filled with columns seemed to having nothing but these rotating plates—though every time the magic was so subtle that they could never tell if the floor was moving under them, or the rest of the room or halls were moving around them—for a floor. A second, much larger one with four doors later on required them to split up, one remaining at the door they had entered from, in order to navigate their way across.

And while the rotating floors where the biggest obstacles

A pit with oozing green stuff that none of them wanted to touch had been filled in with debris from the walls, though it raised the level of the green stuff very nearly to the edge of the pit. Later on a giant ceiling slab lay broken and shattered on the floor, likely some kind of falling-trap. They did manage to accidentally activate another trap, this one in the form of walls that abruptly tried to crush them. But someone else had already activated and dealt with the trap previously. All of the spikes at their level and a bit higher had all been blasted away or bent in on themselves, and the walls had stopped when the spikes that were still intact higher up on the walls, touched the opposite wall. The major traps, though, the gouts of magic that would freeze you solid or burn the person to you to ash, the clouds of poisonous gas and swarms of flesh-eating beetles, the magical runes that would explode when you passed them by, or entomb you in the walls, or released terrifying magic-powered constructs, had all been blasted away or neutralized.

In one of the final stretches they entered a broad gallery. Unlike other such galleries they had passed through, this one had walls that were unmarred by spell-damage. Harry could even see where trap- and guard-runes had been before their magic had been played out The reason for the lack of spell-damage and the played-out runes, lay on the floor before them. In depths reaching up past Harry's knees were the gory remains of a zoo of conjured and transfigured animals that had been sent ahead to trigger the traps, which had slaughtered them with all the apparent regard Snape would have for a cute furry woodland creature he was rendering into ingredients.

"Dear and Merciful Morgana," Parvati whispered. She had meant it for herself, but in the silent hall Harry and Padma heard it equally well.

A path had been blasted through the offal. The spell had ripped off a layer of stone, and must have cracked some kind of underlying support because the gallery formed two slight inclines with the path at the center. Stacks of broken bodies formed obscene valley walls, and a river of blood flowed down the center of it.

"Who would do such a thing?" Harry asked after a moment.

"You-Know-Who," Parvati said harshly.

"Or someone who didn't care," Padma said. "I mean, it wasn't like they were _real_ after all."

Harry looked at her. "You don't call this real?" he asked, gesturing towards the gallery.

"They had to be transfigured," Padma said. "There's no way that many real animals could have been gotten down here."

She didn't look nearly as confident as she sounded, and Harry suspected that she didn't really believe what she said either. He turned back and stepped out into the gallery.

It was possible by staying close to the sides and not walking in the middle of the path that they were able to walk without splashing. The blood was still fresh and there was so much of it that it hadn't had time to congeal yet. But even though they didn't have to walk down the center of the path it was impossible to miss the blood underfoot. Higher on the sides of the cracked floor the pools were thinner and had taken on a tacky consistency and made a disturbing squelching sound as they walked. Here and there ragged limbs or bits of inners had fallen from the heaps. They tried to avoid stepping on these, the former likely to throw them off-balance and the latter nauseatingly squishy and inclined to spurt fluids that hadn't leaked out.

At the end of the gallery was a short hall that ended in a stone wall. Chunks of stone and debris gave grim testimony to how Snape and presumably Tonks and Cedric had gotten past, but none of the first years knew any kind of blasting spell.

Padma tapped the wall with her wand and uttered the basic unlocking spell.

To Harry's surprise, silvery-white letters in a familiar looping script began to write themselves across the wall.

"Whosoever places his hand uponeth this wall, if he be of worthy mind, then speak friend, and enter," Padma said.

"I've got this one," Harry said, pressing his hand into Dumbledore's glowing writing. Then, at a sudden loss for anything to say, said: "My name is Harry Potter."

There was a grinding sound, and before he could pull away a second stone door slammed shut. They were sliding doors, closing from the side to seal over the blocking wall. Harry would have had his hand crushed if they had not had an indentation carved out that fitted perfectly around his wrist, but nevertheless his hand was hopelessly trapped.

"'My name is Harry Potter,'" Padma mimicked. "Was that the best you could come up with?"

"You think there's a password?" Harry asked.

A giant stone block fell from the ceiling, blocking the path behind them. It began to grind forward.

"Of _course_ there's a password," Padma said, then stuck her hand over his mouth before he could reply. Nothing seemed to happen so she added: "Don't talk, you probably only get three chances to get it right and I don't want to end up as paste because you decided to open your mouth."

Harry nodded to show he understood. Then nodded at the wall with his trapped hand.

"Of course we don't know what the password is," Parvati said crossly. "And you've already used up two of our guesses."

"Actually, 'Vati, we _do_ know the password," Padma said so softly that Harry was only just able to hear her over the grinding of the stone block that was getting uncomfortably close.

"We do?" her sister asked.

Padma nodded. "It's a word-game. Just like in _Lord of the Rings_."

Parvati stared at her for a moment. "You're risking our lives on a hunch that the Headmaster has the same taste in mundane literature that you do?"

"Um…yes."

Harry looked back and forth between the two for a moment. Then he lowered the torch to one of the side walls, and awkwardly because of how large it was, used it to write 'mel' and 'fri' in soot.

"Mel?" Padma asked. "Oh, you mean do I think the password is '_mellon_' like it is in the books, or simply 'friend'?"

Harry nodded.

"Um…"

"For Merlin's sake, it could be in _Welsh_ for all you know," Parvati snapped.

Harry looked at the twins, then at the advancing block of stone. He turned back to the wall.

"Friend," he said as confidently as he could, which wasn't very.

The block of stone stopped moving.

The sliding stone doors retreated.

The stone wall stood before them for a moment, and then slowly faded away leaving the path open.

A dogleg kept them from seeing into the next chamber, but it was only a short one and they quickly found themselves in a large room that was reasonably well-lit and had a black-and-white tile floor.

Or at least he had had a black/white tiled floor at one point.

The damage to the room was at least as bad as the rest they had seen combined. There were craters that were longer than Hagrid and so deep Harry could not have seen out of them if he'd been standing in them. A great stone slab had splintered away from the ceiling and now covered the middle of the room. Off to the left, one of the large square tiles had been transfigured into a pit filled with sharp stakes. A man wearing black mail had fallen in and was now quite clearly dead. More bodies, all wearing either black or white armor, littered the ground. A great horse had been cut literally in half, and off to the left was a large blood smear that could only have come from another.

"Merlin," Parvati whispered. "What happened here?"

"I think it's a giant chessboard," Harry said slowly. The tiles were awfully large, and he couldn't recall seeing white _or_ black suits of armor in the school.

"I think you may be right," Padma said after a moment. "We were probably meant to play across it. McGonagall, you think?"

"Probably," Harry said, picking his way across the ruined battlefield. The blood was starting to slowly pool, and as he watched, one hand dragged a disembodied arm across towards a pawn. The pieces were starting to put themselves back together. "We should hurry."

He needn't have spoken. Padma had seen it too and informed her sister with a shout.

Unlike the other challenges, a broad corridor led from the Chess Room. In the middle of the corridor was a troll that was even larger than the one Harry remembered facing on Halloween. It was also quite obviously dead. Harry wasn't certain if there was anything in the magical world that could survive its head being chopped off, but at least seemed trolls incapable of such a feat.

Sitting against the wall not far from the dead troll was Cedric Diggory.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted, breaking into a run with the twins right behind him.

"Harry," Cedric said, his face twisted in pain.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Bone-breaking hex, I think," Cedric gasped. "He's wearing some kind of cloak that deflects jelly-legs and _petrificus_ and other low-level curses. He just threw spells back at us to slow us, but he turned and fought here. His spell caught me in the knee."

"Padma, you and Parvati help Cedric," Harry said, pulling out his cloak. "If he makes it past us, use this."

"You want us to hide?" Parvati asked in disgust.

"Do you have a better idea?" Harry asked. "Remember this is Snape we're talking about. Fully-qualified wizard, knows a lot about the Dark Arts… Do you think you can stop him?"

"Harry's right," Cedric said through clenched teeth. "We won't be able to get out of here fast, not with my leg."

"All right," Parvati said, crossing her arms. "What about you? Do you think you can stop him?"

"I have this," Harry said, indicating the Phoenix Amulet. "It's worked before, during that blizzard and again in the Forbidden Forest."

"And you have no idea how or why it did so, or even if it'll work again," Parvati said. "No offense, Harry, but we're _First years_. What are you going to do, use tickle charms on him?"

There wasn't really anything he could say to that, Harry reflected, but it didn't change things. He _had_ to keep going. It wasn't about loyalty to a friend who was in danger; Tonks was far more capable of taking care of herself than anything he could add would be worth. It wasn't about keeping the Stone away from Snape or Voldemort. It wasn't about confronting the man, or at least his servant, who had killed his family when he was a baby and had tried to kill him and his friends this year on several different occasions. It wasn't even about the thrill of going somewhere few others were and doing something that most other people wouldn't—_that_ feeling had died with Fluffy. It was all of these things and none of them and he didn't think he could explain it, but the set look on Parvati's face meant that he had to at least try.

"Allie tried to explain it to me once," he said. "There are…patterns, in magic. The way things flow and how they come together—I think she was hinting at that in the potions review. The way Voldemort and I have kept bumping into each other this year, when he attacked us in that blizzard, Cedric, and then again in the Forest."

"You think you're fated to kill him or something?" Parvati asked blankly. "Harry, do you have any idea how _insane_ that is? I mean, ten, twenty years from now I _might_ believe that…_maybe_. But even heroes in the old sagas were allowed to grow up before trying to defeat their arch-nemesis."

"I don't have to defeat him," Harry whispered.

Parvati said something, but he didn't hear her.

For a moment he had seen things with a perfect clarity. It was as though he'd been working on a giant jigsaw puzzle without ever seeing what the finished picture would look like, and having put together large portions of the puzzle he had been allowed an ever-so-brief glimpse of how they went together.

Parvati snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "Harry?"

"Sorry," he said reflexively.

"You said that you didn't have to defeat him," Cedric said.

"I don't," Harry said. "Look, whatever it was that he's become the Amulet works against. I don't know if any fully-qualified wizard or witch could stop him as he is, but we do know that he can't hurt me as long as I have it."

"We think," Padma said.

"That means," Harry continued as though he hadn't heard her, "I only have to worry about Snape. By now Justin and Ernie have woken the Professors and they're on their way, but it'll take them time to get here, even with most of the puzzles disabled and knowing the way."

"So why don't we wait?" Parvati asked.

"Because Snape can still give the Stone to You-Know-Who," Padma said slowly as understanding reached her eyes. "If he does that, then _he_ comes back. That's what you're thinking, isn't it, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I can stop that from happening."

"How?" Parvati demanded. "I mean, Snape is—"

"Because Snape is trying to get the Stone," Harry said. "I just have to make sure that he doesn't, or that it isn't in a condition where it's useful to him. Remember what Allie's said about Alchemy? So above as is below, and before is behind. We _both_ need to be there. I'm not sure _why_ it's important, just that it is."

"She also said that only the worthy find the Stone," Parvati said.

Harry didn't reply.

"I'm coming with you," Padma announced.

"No you aren't," Harry and Parvati said at the same time.

"Yes I am," she insisted. "Unless you think Snape put the troll here or did that maze, his puzzle is still ahead. I'm better than you at potions, Harry, and you know it. Do you want to take the chance that you can't get by whatever he put in to stop others?"

Harry hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."

Padma turned. "Par—"

"Go!" Parvati snapped. "Help Harry and then get out. We'll be holed up in the second branch to the right."

"Second right," Padma repeated.

Harry quickly helped Parvati get Cedric up and half-resting on her/half-leaning on the torch which the older boy had extinguished with a word and then transfigured into a long walking stick. He turned and hurried down the passage with Padma behind him.

At the end of the corridor was a plain oak door. They opened it and entered a small chamber. There was a bench on the left wall with a number of crystal bottles, and a second door in the far wall. As soon as Harry and Padma were inside the chamber purple-colored flames spread across the door behind them. They quickly stepped away, but no sooner had they done so than black flames spread across the door before them.

"We're trapped," Harry said. "Any ideas?"

Padma gestured to the bench. "This must be Snape's challenge," she said, picking up a piece of parchment. Seven bottles...oh, I see, a logic puzzle." She plucked up the smallest bottle. "This one will get you through the black flames."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"It's the smallest bottle," she said. "He wouldn't have supplied enough for two people to get through. It would have been pointless if there was just one person and he wouldn't want a whole army able to go through. He could always brew more if they needed multiple people to move the Stone. And I bet they all replenish as soon as the chamber is empty of living people...one way or the other. _Go_, Harry, it'll only take me a moment to work out which one will let me out."

"What if _I_ need to get out?" Harry asked.

Padma blinked, then consulted the paper. "Dwarf and giant are safe. Second ones in are poison. That one—" she pointed at a giant flask "—must be wine…the potion on the right." She took up this bottle, unstoppered it, and drank.

Then shivered.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. If she'd chosen wrong and accidentally poisoned herself there was very little he could do.

"Yes," she gasped. "It's like ice. Ooooh that's cold." She shivered again.

"Look," Harry said. "Parvati was right. We need Dumbledore. If it's Voldemort I have the Phoenix Amulet and it's protected me before. But if it's Snape in there I can delay him a little and maybe destroy the Stone, but I don't know enough to really stop him. Justin and Ernie should have woken the teachers by now and sent a letter off to Dumbledore if Hermione left any owls, but if they haven't—"

Padma nodded. "I'll—Harry, be careful." She wrapped him in a tight hug that took him so by surprise that he nearly fell. Before he could do anything other than feel very embarrassed, she let go, turned, and disappeared through the purple flames.

Harry grabbed the smallest bottle and pulled out the glass stopper. The fluid inside was clear and not the least bit runny or viscous. Unlike the other potions he had seen so far, this one could have been mistaken for water. He swallowed it down in one go. It had no taste. It didn't even taste like water. Some trick of the substance let him feel him swallowing something cool and wet, but it was utterly tasteless.

Almost immediately it felt as though someone had poured little chips of ice into his veins. He shivered despite himself, and had to clench his jaw lest his teeth begin to chatter. The effect began to wear off almost immediately. With no way to replenish the potion he didn't even have a moment to hesitate to gather his strength before stepping through the roaring black flames.

888

Padma quoted Sir Colin Campbell


	25. Chapter 25: The Man with Two Faces

**Chapter 25 The Man with Two Faces**

"For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist."  
-Marcus Tullius Cicero-

\|/\|/\|/

"Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked as he recognized the man standing in the center of the circular room. He looked around warily, his wand up, but he saw no sign of Snape.

"Hello, Harry—you don't mind if I call you Harry, do you?" Quirrell asked with no trace of his stutter. "I rather wondered if I would bee seeing you down here."

Since when did Quirrell use his first name? Harry wondered, but his attention was diverted by the still form of Tonks. "Did you stop Snape?" He asked as he moved over to his fallen friend.

"Snape?" Quirrell asked.

Something in the way he asked that made Harry pause as he bent toward Tonks, and take in the room again. It was circular, made of fitted stone, and rather low compared to the soaring ceilings in most of Hogwarts. Iron brackets on the walls held torches that burned brightly but didn't give off any heat or smoke. The only door seemed to be the one he'd come through.

In the center of the room Quirrell stood before the Mirror of Erised.

"It wasn't him, was it?" Harry asked slowly as he straightened from his half-crouch. "It was you."

Quirrell laughed. It wasn't his usual quivering treble, but cold and high and sharp and vaguely sinister. "Me," he said with a wide smile before bowing slightly. "Severus does play the part rather well," he said. "So useful to have him swooping around like an over-sized bat and terrifying all the first years. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-poor, st-st-stuttering P-Professor Q-Quirrell?"

"You tried to kill me," Harry said, thinking out-loud so he'd only half-heard Quirrell's response, as he tried to come to terms with the latest revelation.

"Indeed," Quirrell said dismissively as he turned back to the Mirror. "The Quidditch game," he continued over his shoulder, "a jinx, unfortunate that Severus was whispering a counter-jinx that was potent enough to delay me long enough for the other players to come to your aid. As for Ms. Blackthorn's duel, very sloppy of Flitwick to let the entire staff in on what he had come up with. He just had to prove how smart he was, and how capable he was of obtaining rare magical items. It was none-too-hard to distract him long enough to obtain chips of each of the feystone rods."

"Which you used to destroy the real rods using thaumaturgy," Harry said.

"You _did_ do a thorough job of it," Quirrell said, sounding vaguely approving as he examined the Mirror. "Thaumaturgy is only barely mentioned in passing in N.E.W.T.-level Charms."

"But if Snape wasn't trying to kill me, why did he referee one of my games?" Harry asked.

"He was trying to save you," Quirrell muttered distractedly as he examined the mirror. "Funny—he needn't have bothered. My first attempt had roused Dumbledore's suspicion. I couldn't try that again without drawing his attention upon myself and I couldn't have had that. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to influence the game to favor his house in the Quidditch finals, he _did_ make himself unpopular…

"Now, if you will pardon me, Mr. Potter, I have an artifact to retrieve. Do not attempt to delay me further, it won't work and it will irritate me."

"You tried to kill me before, why should I think you won't try again?"

"Oh, I have no intention of allowing you to live," Quirrell said, looking up at Harry from the Mirror where one spidery-hand—no longer the damp, limp thing from when they had met in the Leaky Cauldron—was splayed against its glass. "However, the more you irritate me the more painful your demise shall be."

Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes shot out of thin air and tied themselves tightly around Harry who dropped his wand. "You are far too nosy to let live, _Mister_ Potter," he said. "All that scurrying running around on Halloween, for all I knew you'd seen me going to retrieve the Stone. Unfortunately, while everyone else was chasing that troll around the corridors, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off—and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that damn three-headed dog of Hagrid's didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now wait quietly, Potter, I want to examine this interesting mirror. I shall not warn you again." Quirrell turned back to the mirror and began to tap around its frame with his wand. "The mirror is the key to the Stone," he murmured. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this…but he's in London…I shall be long gone by the time he returns."

The amulet was hot under Harry's robes where he had tucked it before passing through Snape's enchanted flames, but he had no way to get to it bound as he was. Tonks moved slightly on the ground. She wasn't bound like he was. It wasn't much of a plan, but if he could delay Quirrell… If he could buy time for Tonks to regain consciousness, buy time for Ron's letter to Dumbledore, or for Justin and Ernie to get Professor Sprout, Allie, anyone who'd come…

"You attacked Padma."

"Padma?" Quirrell asked distractedly. "Oh, yes, now I remember, the Ravenclaw bint. You can blame Dumbledore for that. If he hadn't put in a magic-null zone I would have blasted that damn three-headed dog out of the way and have been long-since done with this. She would have never known I was even there if not for Dumbledore deciding to be clever. And since we're making a complete record of things, _I_ was the one who let Malfoy know about the Dragon. The Master was most displeased by the presence of those people from the Ministry, but I would have gotten past them had you not ruined another perfectly good opportunity by drawing those prefects to this corridor. With Dumbledore monitoring magic-use in the corridors I could not both dispatch them and have time enough to retrieve the Stone."

"You were seen talking with Snape in the forest," Harry said.

"I rather suspected I was, but then I thought it was that interfering old man," Quirrell said idly as he walked behind the mirror. "Snape was on to me by then, wondering how far I'd come in piercing the defenses guarding the Stone.

"As though there was anything to discover," he scoffed. "The other Professors were far too eager to talk about the complex pieces of magic they performed to protect the Stone. A three-headed dog, a magical weed that is better known for being unknown than its lethality… Any first-year could be expected to get by devil's snare, but the plant is so utterly _worthless_ for anything—"

"It can crush people, strangle them," Harry said.

"Certainly, if they were crippled," Quirrell said scornfully. "_Muggles_ could escape from it. All those remarkable tools they have for producing light since they cannot summon their own. No, Mr. Potter, the only surprises were Severus' little word-games, this Mirror, and that charming little maze. I rather suspect that Dumbledore added that one, but no matter."

He paused. "Although, reflecting on it, I think Snape may well have suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me—as though he could, when I had The Master on my side…

"And that Thorne twat, praying to a seditionist two millennia dead that muggles think is some sort of all-powerful deity…really quite amusing. I might have laughed if you had not turned out all the centaurs to hunt me. No matter. Stored unicorn's blood is not as potent as it is fresh, but there is sufficient quantity to last until I am able to present the Philosopher's Stone to The Master."

Quirrell came back out from behind the Mirror and stared hungrily into it. Harry saw the moonshine-flash that he could not possibly forget as the Mirror of Erised activated and he could see Quirrell's disturbingly avaricious expression reflected in its pool-like depths.

"I see the Stone…I'm presenting it to The Master…but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. Tonks moaned slightly and he felt a moment of panic as Quirrell moved. He held his breath, but Quirrell didn't turn and look at them, instead tilting his head to look at the mirror from a slightly different angle.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry said, desperate to keep Quirrell's attention on anything _but_ the Mirror.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell said casually, "Merlin, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They absolutely _loathed_ each other. But he never wanted you _dead_."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing—I thought Snape was threatening you…"

For the first time a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Sometimes I find it hard to follow The Master's instructions—He is a great wizard and I am weak—"

"At last, Quirrell, you sniveling wretch of a wizard, you realize the truth."

The black flame warding the door guttered and a figure enshrouded in black robes stepped through.

Quirrell paused and turned. "Hello, Severus," he said in a suddenly level voice that Harry found very disturbing—both for how it sounded, and how quickly it had appeared. "We were just talking about you."

"You are finished, Quirrell," Snape said. "You would have done well to go groveling to Dumbledore. His brand of mercy is much more…forgiving than mine."

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded.

"Saving your worthless life, Potter," Snape sneered. "_Again_."

"Do you think I fear _you_, Severus?" Quirrell laughed. "I have never feared you. The Master is with me. There is no power more potent than His. Even as you arrogantly believed that p-poor st-stuttering Quirrell could not possibly slip the childish little safeguards on the Philosopher's Stone. Yet here I stand, and soon The Master—"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry blurted.

Snape glared at him, but whatever Quirrell was about to say died a silent death as the Defense professor turned to Harry and the hard look he had given Snape melted away.

"The Master is with me wherever I go," Quirrell said softly. "I met Him when I traveled the world. A foolish young man I was then, filled with ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort came to me one night and He opened my eyes and showed my how wrong I was. There is no good or evil. There is power, and those that are too weak to seek it… Since then, I have followed Him most faithfully, although I have let Him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me. Lord Voldemort does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, He was most displeased. He punished me…decided He would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

"Potter may believe the sob-story you are peddling, Quirrell," Snape said contemptuously. "Puffs believe anything they are told and are suckers for tears, but you should know better than to try telling that story to _me_. The Dark Lord would never accept a weak, sniveling little wretch of a wizard like you into his service."

"Severus." The solitary word was spoken with a cold, high voice, very unlike the surprising level baritone that Quirrell had been using.

As Harry watched, Snape's pale skin took on a sickly, pasty hue and he actually took a half-step back, nearly tripping over his robes as he did so.

"M-My Lord?" Snape asked. His voice was so tight with surprise that he had to pause after the first word and wet his lips before repeating himself.

"Lord Voldemort admits himself…disappointed, Severus, oh yes he does," the not-Quirrell's-voice said. Quirrell's lips, Harry noted, weren't even moving. "Lord Voldemort trusted you, Severus Tobias Snape."

There was a sudden weight in the chamber as the voice spoke the name, as though the air had suddenly grown thick and heavy. Snape's expression didn't even flicker, Harry noticed. Whatever it was that the Not-Quirrell—Voldemort, had been trying to do, it hadn't worked.

_A Naming ritual of some kind_, Harry realized, remembering Allie's warning back in the summer about the danger of using a full name to introduce one's self. Only it had been too long since Voldemort had gotten Snape's Name. There may have been power in it, but the Name was no longer perfect. Close, but not close enough to control or compel or whatever it was that had been Voldemort's intent.

"Lord Voldemort trusted you above all of His Death Eaters. Trust that you have repaid with treachery…"

"My Lord—"

"_My Lord_?" Harry blurted. "So you are with him!"

"Stay out of this, Potter!" Snape shouted, "It is no concern of yours."

"On the contrary, Severus, since Lord Voldemort plans on killing the boy tonight it is as much Mr. Potter's concern as it is anyone's."

"My Lord, I—"

"I—what, Severus?" the voice cut him off. "All year you have thwarted Lord Voldemort. Voldemort is most disappointed with you."

"My Lord, I did not know. I thought it was the weak, craven Quirrell. I thought he was after the Philosopher's Stone for himself. I did not know he intended it for you!"

"And Potter?" the voice asked.

"I thought it my responsibility as a teacher to protect the students at Hogwarts," Snape said quickly.

"Not from _me!_" the voice shrieked.

"Forgive me, Master," Snape said quickly. "I meant that I did it only not to arouse Dumbledore's suspicions and to further his trust in me. I was only endeavoring to further the last orders I _knew_ were from you!"

"Enough!" the voice cried. For a moment silence reigned, then the voice said in a soft hiss: "Let me see, Quirrell."

"Master, no, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell cried.

"I have strength enough for this," the voice said. "Let me see, or experience the full strength of my wrath upon yourself!"

Quirrell flinched, but reached up and slowly unwound his turban. He was bald under it, and his head appeared strangely small without it. He let it fall away, purple cloth slipping between his fingers to pool on the floor as all expression left his face. Slowly he turned in place until his back was facing them.

Harry was frozen, even without the ropes he didn't think he could have moved. He would have screamed, _wanted_ to scream, but he could no more make a sound than he could move. He wanted to look away, but the same horror that makes people stand around murder scenes as the bodies are wheeled out or stare at traffic accidents, held him transfixed.

Snape likewise seemed trapped in the horror before them.

On the back of Quirrell's bald head was a second face. It was whiter than the ghastly pale color that Snape's normally pasty face had turned. It had a lipless mouth filled with sharp teeth. Thin slits, slightly slanted, served as a nose. Its eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but _red_.

Snape made an inarticulate sound and his wand quivered. Somehow that made him feel a little better, but Snape admitting that he would have helped if Voldemort had asked quickly quashed it.

"Harry James Potter…" The voice hissed his name, adding sibilants where there were none, in such a way that was almost tender and wondering…if it wasn't so malicious. There was weight in those words, the voice had spoken them much the same way it had spoken Snape's name, but they were even less effective. The corners of its mouth rose slightly. "Look, Harry Potter. Behold…what Lord Voldemort has been reduced to because of you..."

Harry's scar exploded into burning pain. He reeled, his head swimming in agony that robbed him of his sense of balance and sent him crashing to the stone floor. It felt like someone was pouring molten lead into it while shoving white hot-pokers into his forehead from the inside.

"Reduced to less than a shadow of my former glory….wisps of nightmares and muttered terrors, fearful glimpses and memory-darkened corners. Capable of form only when possessing another's body. And yet, there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds," said the face with the kind of seraphic smile that Satan must have worn as it watched the first woman walk away with a freshly picked piece of fruit.

"Turn, Quirrell, so that I may look upon your brother."

Quirrell did as he was told, leaving the face pointed towards Snape.

"Sseveruss..." It hissed slowly, eyes narrowing. "You have been a constant thorn in our side. You have tried to halt our progress in attaining the Stone. Were it not for your meddling I would have returned to my body and the full strength of my power at the end of October. Through your meddling alone I failed to be reborn on the most potent night for such magic.

"Explain yourself!"

"I had no idea, my Lord," Snape said quickly. "I thought only that craven, Quirrell—"

"_Silence_!" Hissed the face again. "Quirrell. Since Severus wishes to pretend he is still in school, _instruct_ him in the price for his perfidy."

"Yes, Master," Quirrell said, spinning around and raising his wand at Snape once more, a satisfied smirk on his face. "_Crucio_!"

Harry didn't know what the spell was, but Snape didn't even try to protect himself from it.

It struck the Potion Master in the chest. Snape gave a sharp, explosive gasp and was driven to his knees by the force of the spell. His hands convulsed in tight fists and his feet drummed a soft tattoo on the stone floor as the strain of whatever the spell was doing to him caused every line in his head and neck to stand out in bold relief.

"You never did scream," the face of Voldemort said, sounding rather disappointed. "Again," he said, without the anger of the previous command.

"_Crucio_!" Quirrell cried again.

This time the spell drew an involuntary cry from Snape as he collapsed to his hands and knees. Greasy black hair hung lank, hiding his face, and his wand made a soft skittering sound as it rolled across the stones when Snape dropped it. Then the room was silent except for the Potion Master's ragged breathing.

"Again," the face said, now sounding bored with the whole thing.

"_**CRUCIO**_!"

The third curse was too much for Snape. He crumpled to the stone floor and curled into a fetal position.

The pain that had threatened to overwhelm him had cleared. With Snape's collapse the horrific fascination that had ensnared Harry and kept him from moving while Snape was tortured, vanished. Still bound in Quirrell's conjured ropes, he lunged for his wand. It was doubtful that even without the ropes he could have done anything to stop Quirrell, but he had to at least _try_.

He lunged again, pushing off the stone floor as hard as he could with his unbound legs. His wand was close, he could see it right in front of him.

Harry lunged again and Quirrell's booted foot came down on top of it.

He looked down at Harry with a smile of amused contempt, then casually kicked the wand across the room and returned to the Mirror.

"Damn Dumbledore," Quirrell said. "The clever bastard just had to show off." He touched the Mirror again. Abruptly he whirled back to face Harry.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work?" He asked, almost _breathed_, in a soft voice.

"I don't know," Harry said, struggling until he was sitting up on the stone floor. "I'm just a first year. Sorry."

"'Just a first year,'" Quirrell repeated. "How did you get this far if you were 'just a first year'?"

"You removed most of the major obstacles," Harry said. "Fluffy, the keys, chessboard, I only had to follow the damage to get through the maze."

Quirrell twirled his wand between his fingers, his expression a mix of frustration at the Mirror and annoyance at Harry. "And Severus'?" he asked coolly.

"Did you really think Snape would leave enough…whatever that was, for more than one person?" Harry asked. Then, hoping to buy Dumbledore a few more seconds, forced his voice to maintain a calm, casual tone as he asked: "Why? How long did it take you to work through his little word-game?"

"_Crucio_."

Pain.

It was worse than Harry had ever experienced, had ever thought it was possible to experience. It was burning worse than the time he had splattered hot bacon grease on his arm and raised a huge blister, and yet it was a razor-edged plunging cold as though he were being stabbed with daggers made of ice. Shocks ran through his body a million times worse that Dudley's electric flyswatter had been before Dudley had eventually broken it like he had all of his other toys.

When Quirrell finally removed the spell Harry thought that it had only been held on him for a moment. He wasn't certain. The pain had seemed as endless as the sky, as deep as the ocean. It threatened to go on until it overwhelmed him and dragged him down.

Then, just as suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone.

That did not mean, of course, that it didn't _hurt_ anymore.

Harry's entire body hurt. His muscles felt like they were on fire, his bones ached, and his skin was so sensitive that his clothes felt like they were rubbing against an open wound. He felt tears bead in his eyes and her roughly blinked them away. There were certain things one learned in Hufflepuff, such as not to cry in front of Slytherins. In the sett was one thing, but as sharks smelling blood, Slytherins like Malfoy could smell weakness.

"There now, that was unpleasant," Quirrell said not unkindly. "A little less insolence from you now, Harry, or you'll find your impending demise even more so."

He turned back to the Mirror, giving Harry a good look at the dark wizard protruding from the back of his head. Voldemort grinned at him malevolently.

"I know this blasted mirror is the key to finding the Stone, but I cannot make it _work_!"

Voldemort's smirk turned into an irritated glower at his servant's cry of frustration. "Use him," he snarled at the professor. "Use the boy!"

Quirrell turned around again. "Come here, Potter. Look in this mirror and tell me what you see!" Quirrell growled, turning his wand on Harry again.

Harry wheezed as magic picked him up by the neck of his robes and floated him across the room to where Quirrell was, before dumping him unceremoniously to the floor.

"Get _up!_"

Before Harry could say, much less do, anything, magic jerked him to his feet.

Despite the positive mien he had put on for the twins, Harry knew he was completely outclassed. That he had been since before he entered the chamber. Snape was still twitching on the ground and making soft whimpering noises, and Tonks appeared to still be unconscious, and without support he had zero chance against him…them? Harry dismissed the question as irrelevant.

He did, however, have two advantages that they could not possibly know about, and one they had overlooked. First, he knew how the Mirror worked. Such knowledge wouldn't help him to defeat them, but possibly—and it was _only_ a possibility, he knew—he would be able to deceive the both of them. It was a longshot, the kind of plan only a Gryffindor like Ron—no, scratch that—the kind of plan only a Gryffindor like _Hermione_ would think of. It was the kind of plan that would probably get him killed when, not if, it was discovered. And, ultimately, it relied on delaying Quirrell/Voldemort long enough for Dumbledore to get there to rescue him…which had been the plan from the very beginning, only Harry was starting to see some glaring weaknesses in it.

His second advantage was his wandless ability with fire. True, he had told his friends about it, but even the _idea_ that he could do any wandless magic at all had somehow never made it into Hogwarts' rumor mill. And unlike Hermione, who never managed to do more than light candles, and Ron who dismissed it as 'impossible', he had kept practicing. In a fair fight he would be woefully outclassed, but if it came as a complete surprise he might have a chance of distracting Quirrell long enough to run for it.

And finally there was the phoenix pendant. It was hot even through the robes he wore, but Quirrell hadn't taken it from him. He didn't know why. Certainly after the encounters in the blizzard and the Forbidden Forest, Quirrell and Voldemort had to have known about it. For whatever reason, however, they hadn't even glanced at it.

Between those three little things he had the beginning of a plan. Not much of a plan, admittedly. A last-minute, desperate, all-or-nothing plan. The kind that Thrace would have savagely torn apart if he'd bothered to suggest it during a team planning session.

To call it a long-shot would be to take understatement to new lows. It would, in all likelihood, get him killed, especially if he was found out early. At the very least it might buy a few more minutes, though if anyone other than Snape were coming they should have already been there.

Harry bent his legs as Quirrell's magic once more released him, but even so the landing came with such a shock that he staggered and would have fallen if he hadn't run into the Mirror.

It didn't break, but then he hadn't expected it to.

Harry stepped up in front of the Mirror, uncomfortably aware of Quirrell watching on in interest from somewhere behind him and to the side. He began to concentrate on the ropes, mentally calling up fire. A small one, less than a match would produce. Hidden, burning in the center of the thick knots of the ropes binding him, safely out of eyesight.

After a moment of silence the Defense Professor asked impatiently: "Well? What do you see?"

Harry licked his lips, partially because they were dry, but also to give himself a chance to think because the _last_ thing he could tell Quirrell would be the truth.

He had expected to see a lot of things when he looked into the Mirror. Part of him had expected to see his parents again. Another part had wanted to see his friends, or Dumbledore coming to his rescue, or the insane wizard next to him dying of a sudden stroke. Instead what he saw was his reflection grinning back at him. It produced a sizable red stone from somewhere behind his body, tossed it from one hand to the other, gave the real Harry a quick wink, and dropped the stone into one of his pockets. As his reflection did this, Harry felt something heavy fall into his own pocket. He had somehow managed to get ahold of the Stone.

No. The last thing he could tell Quirrell was that he had completed his quest. He'd been found worthy—though probably in a lesser way than the Alchemist who'd succeeded in making it—of discovering the Philosopher's Stone for himself. Which meant that his only recourse was to tell a lie.

Lying had never been a particularly strong suit of Harry's, but he knew enough that there were five simple rules that all effective lies were based on, of which he had control of only four. Keep it simple, make it likely, be consistent, and keep it as true as possible. The fifth was that the person being lied to had to be prepared to accept it. There wasn't anything Harry could do for that, but he figured Quirrell would be pretty accepting…he hoped.

"I see myself eating breakfast with my friends," he said quickly.

"_What_?" Quirrell said.

Harry repeated himself, and went on. "Parvati has the _Daily Prophet_, I can see the date, it's tomorrow morning."

Quirrell's hand on the back of his robes spun him around and slammed him against the Mirror in apparent disregard for tis well-being. "You mean to say that you saw yourself having _breakfast_?" the wizard asked in a low, calm, and utterly malevolent, tone while brandishing his wand so its tip was only just below Harry's right eye.

"The Mirror, it shows us what we most want to see," Harry said quickly. "It says so at the top. It's mirror-writing with bad spacing. You've already told me you're going to kill me. Right now I _really_ want to be able to have breakfast with my friends."

Quirrell made a growling sound and shoved Harry aside. Harry fell hard to the floor, his bound arms giving him no chance to protect himself.

He must have blacked out for a moment because he couldn't remember hitting his head. Flashes of light that had nothing to do with magic were going off behind his eyes, accompanied by sharp jolts of pain and blurry vision, in time with his heartbeat. He knew about the timing because there was a slight but agonizingly acute flood of pain that washed from his neck through his head at the same time so that the hammering in his ears was almost an afterthought.

Harry moaned softly, something sharp was jabbing into his hip. It didn't distract from the pain in his head, but it did give him something else to focus on.

"_Potter!_"

Something gave him a terrific shake.

Harry moaned again. "Wha' iz't?" he managed to slur.

"What was that sound?"

Sound? Harry blinked up at Quirrell, but either he'd lost his glasses or his vision was foggy from hitting the ground. Likely both he thought.

"My head?" he asked, confused whether he should be asking if it was the right answer or if the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would take it as merely acceptable. Why was Professor Quirrell asking about his head? For that matter, where were they?

Quirrell tsked at him. "The _other_ sound, Potter."

_Oh_, Harry thought to himself. _That's_ why Quirrell is asking…

"Uh…it was my wand."

Not his best, he judged, but not bad for impro—

"He lies!" Voldemort's face hissed. "**HE LIES! **_**SEIZE HIM**_!"

Harry rolled. The last thing he wanted was for Quirrell/Voldemort to get his—their?—hands on him. The ropes binding him suddenly parted with the sweet tang of burning hemp and he reached out a hand.

His wand, entirely unbidden but fervently wished for, suddenly flew across the remaining feet and slapped into his palm. Harry twisted onto his back, kicking against the floor to skid away from Quirrell as he turned his wand on the Professor and the Dark Lord.

Quirrell was quicker.

Harry cried out as his wand was ripped from his hand, leaving him feeling like his arm had been ripped away with it.

"Stay still, Potter, so I can curse you again," Quirrell growled.

He didn't actually expect that to happen, Harry told himself, suddenly and inexplicably frightened by the deranged command.

"_Crucio!_"

Harry could see the spell coming for him. There was a cry, indistinct as though from somewhere far away yet it had an ode crystalline clarity to it. There was anger in that cry, and hope, it was a terrible glorious thing.

The spell fizzled in mid-air.

Quirrell swore and tucked his wand away before charging Harry.

This was it.

It didn't feel like his thought but he knew it was. He felt detached, as though observing what was happening to someone else rather than having it happen to him. For example, he knew that Dumbledore was too late, that the delaying and stalling had come to nothing, and that the boy on the floor was about to die. Quirrell, with Voldemort's face sticking out of the back of his head, was going to kill him and steal the Stone. But somehow that the boy in question was himself didn't seem to register though he recognized at least abstractly that that was the case.

Quirrell kicked him and detachment left Harry as quickly as it had come. He felt something in his chest _give_ as air exploded from his lungs. Quirrell kicked him again and all Harry could manage was a sort of wheeze as Quirrell bent to grasp him.

Harry tried to fight him off, but he was an eleven year-old boy with an arm that felt like it had to be broken, and Quirrell was a grown man with much longer limbs. He tried to curl away from Quirrell, but the Professor's hands reached out and grabbed hold of Harry's throat, squeezing as tightly as he could. Harry grabbed at Quirrell's arms with his hands and trying to kick the man with his feet.

He got a toe between the man's legs and Quirrell's eyes went glassy as his fingers convulsed around Harry's throat.

_Crack_.

For a moment time seemed to stand still, then Harry realized that he must have broken Quirrell's wand. The same thought must have occurred to Quirrell for he hissed, tightening his fingers still more. "You will _pay_ for that," he promised.

There was a faintly sizzling sound that was slowly growing louder, and Harry could smell bacon burning.

I'm dying, a corner of his mind began to monolog. Quirrell has cut off my air and I am starting to hallucinate breakfast.

Quirrell was muttering something very fast and Harry strained to hear it.

"Not again, not again, I won't The Master again—" Quirrell was muttering with maniacal speed and a zealot's gleam in his eyes.

Grey spots filled Harry's vision, which was already edged with black, and the smell of Quirrell's burning hands filled his noise.

Then the Phoenix Amulet exploded.

Blinding white-hot fire filled the room and the pressure on Harry's chest and neck eased.

He coughed, then his lungs remembered how to breathe again which provoked another cough.

"What are you doing?" Voldemort was shrieking. "What is happening? _**SEIZE HIM**_!"

The Phoenix Amulet was blazing like a magnesium flare with small green fires where its ease would be. That beautiful/terrible sound from moments before was back though Harry couldn't think of what it was supposed to mean.

"Master! My hands...!" Quirrell whimpered.

Harry looked, then wished he hadn't. Quirrell's palms were a red, glistening mess. Skin had blistered, burned, small fires had started where fat deposits were ignited causing the skin to crack and peel and burn part way up his arms. The remaining flesh had a nasty look, like they had been partially cooked, then grated. The robes covering his arms also seemed to have taken damage, as they had been burned through most of the way. The fabric was still smoking slightly.

"_**KILL**_him, then!" Voldemort howled. "Kill him and be done with it! We can take the Stone from his corpse!"

Quirrell grabbed painfully at his wand.

But Harry hadn't spent the entire time gaping at Quirrell's injuries—he'd already gotten to his knees and was searching about for his own wand. It wasn't in easy reach so what was the point? If he made a play for it he would be killed before he got to it.

Harry's mind raced, trying to work out what had caused Quirrell's injuries. His hands and robes had been fine before he grabbed Harry's throat and before Harry had grabbed his arms, well, his robes, when he was trying to pull Quirrell off of him.

He shook his head, trying to figure out what the point his oxygen-starved brain was trying to call to his attention. And then it came to him. For whatever reason—obviously magic, though he couldn't think of why it should be so—Quirrell couldn't touch him!

He shifted his attention to Quirrell, but Voldemort's minion had already moved away to pick up Snape's wand.

A flicker of movement caught his attention a moment before a spell slammed into Quirrel's side. Snape's wand flicked out and Tonks gave a cry as she was lifted off the floor and blasted across the chamber to smash into the far wall.

Quirrell turned his attention to her and Harry saw his chance. He could run, hope to get through the flames warding the entrance, he could steal the potions to get through the flames, trapping Voldemort until Dumbledore arrived…but to do that he'd have to leave Tonks and he couldn't do that.

And his wand was still too far away.

Quirrell raised his purloined wand again.

Harry looked down at the Phoenix Amulet, still burning brightly but no longer white-hot. He held out his hands, imaging the flames falling from the Amulet to fill them, calling forth fire and for the first time, just holding it in the air rather than calling it for some use. Then, in desperation as the wand came up, he forced the flame outward.

A gout of red-orange flame arched across the room, reaching for Quirrel.

"_Behind you!_"

Harry grimaced, having momentarily forgotten about Voldemort, but poured still more effort into throwing the fire he'd called up and now covered his arms half-way up to his elbows.

Quirrell stepped to one side before the flame had gone halfway, turned, and threw up some kind of shielding spell that the fire broke upon. The flames clung to it, continuing to burn in mid-air until the magic fueling them dissipated. But Harry was pouring on more flames faster than they disappeared.

"You can't do this forever, Potter!" Quirrell said.

"I can do it long enough!" Harry retorted. He wiped angrily at his forehead with the shoulder of his robes. The flames were magical, but the fire was still hot.

"Can you?" Quirrell asked. "You aren't using a wand, Potter. How long can you really hold that magic before it _burns_ you?"

He cackled as though he had just made a joke.

Harry shook his head, then found himself on his knees with no recollection of how as he continued to send fire at Quirrell. "Just the heat," he told himself as his palms started to tingle. "Just the he—"

He gasped, eyes watering as the tingle became a burning sensation. What felt like Dudley forcing him to press his hands against Uncle Vernon's new car after it had been sitting out in the sun all day grew worse. Having to reposition new logs in the outdoor fireplace Uncle Vernon had brought home the year before…Aunt Petunia making him wash dishes in a sink filled with scalding water…touching a cauldron that hadn't been taken off the fire…

The fire cut off, but Harry felt his arms continued to burn. Now he was plunging them into boiling water…now he was stepping into a bonfire… Heat raced down his lungs and he felt them sear and close. He couldn't breathe again. Lava had replaced blood in his veins…

Over it all he heard Quirrell laugh.

"Good bye, Harry Potter. _Avada Kedavra_—"

There was a flash of green, and Voldemort shrieked.

"_**NOT THAT SPELL YOU FO—**_


	26. Chapter 26: The Hospital Wing

**Chapter 26: Hospital Wing**

"…generally the hero of a journey story is very young."  
David Guterson

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White.

Of all the reactions Harry had expected from Quirrell's curse, white had been the last one. No, that wasn't accurate. He hadn't expected it at all. What kind of curse left its victim seeing white and not in any pain?

In fact, he was actually pretty comfortable, all things considered.

His body was one massive _ache_ that reached from his little toe to his hair, and his throat felt scraped and raw, and he could track his heartbeat by the throbbing in his head. But compared to the curse Quirrell had hit him with earlier he was relatively pain-free.

He couldn't move though.

There was some kind of band that ran from his feet up to his shoulders that seemed to be holding him down. It wasn't any kind of petrification curse, and it certainly wasn't like the ropes Quirrell had used. His clothes had been transfigured as well. Instead of his comfortable robes he was wearing something scratchy, stiff, and kind of itchy…

Harry groaned. He wasn't in Quirrell's tender mercy any more. Somehow he had ended up in the Hospital Wing.

Again.

He tried to decide whether or not this constituted an improvement, but decided it was probably a wash.

Gradually the pain receded and he became aware of something pressed firmly into his left side.

He blinked his eyes, trying to get up enough tears to help clear the gummy stuff coating the lashes and get rid of the feeling of dry sand caught under the lids. That feeling, like the ache, gradually receded as he came to terms with the discomfort.

The world returned to as much focus as it ever got without his glasses. He looked down to find Padma laying half-draped over his arm. Her arm, thrown across his chest, was just about the only thing keeping her from falling off the bed. She was snoring softly, and her eyes looked slightly puffy.

"Harry!"

He turned at the fierce whisper of his name, his hand closing instinctively but instead of the white linen the Hospital Wing used he felt the comfortably familiar wood handle of his wand. The other person he could see in the Hospital Wing was a blur about the same size as Padma. "Parvati?" he asked.

"Shh," Parvati said, her voice thick. "This is the first time she's slept in days."

Padma shifted slightly next to him and stuck her head up. "'rry? Wh'time izzit?"

Parvati sighed. "Never mind, and early afternoon. It's been three days since you went into the Forbidden Corridor," she added to Harry.

"Three _days_?" Harry asked.

"Yep," Parvati said. "Hang on, I've got your glasses," she said.

He held still rather than disturb Padma or relinquish his wand, and Parvati slipped them onto his face.

"You should go back to sleep," Parvati said as soon as they were in place.

For a moment Harry thought she was talking to him, then Padma muttered, "'m fine. "She's been really pushy," she added to Harry. "Kinda scary actually. She's already threatened a number of girls who've stopped by. Hasn't been stopping the _boys_ for some reason."

"Boys are easier to intimidate into being quiet, and they bring better stuff," Parvati said.

"Stuff?" Harry asked, looking around. "And why do I have my wand?"

Madam Pomfry usually confiscated them as a way of making sure her patients stayed until she was ready to release them.

"Granger slipped it to you when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking," Padma said.

"_Hermione_ did?" Harry asked. He couldn't think of anything the Gryffindor was _less_ likely to do than filching his wand and sneaking it to him in contravention of at least a half-dozen rules.

"Uh-huh." Padma made an unhappy sound and finally sat up and slipped off the bed.

"Your admirers," she said, gesturing towards a pile of candy and cards. "Fred and George tried to leave you a toilet seat for some reason, but Madam Pomfrey confiscated it. Something about it not being hygienic."

"Oh," Harry said. "Uh…what are you doing here?"

Padma gave him a hurt look.

"We're on guard duty," Parvati said instantly. "All of us have been."

"Not Tonks."

"Except Tonks, she's down that way," Parvati pointed down the ward to where curtains blocked off another bed.

"Not Allie."

Parvati hesitated a fraction of a second before nodding. "She's been avoiding everyone. But the rest of us have all been trading off guard duty."

"And most diligently you have been."

Harry turned. "Professor Dumbledore," he said, struggling to loosen the stiff, heavily starched sheets.

"Prove it," Parvati said, turning on the Headmaster of Hogwarts before he could say anything.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he looked down at Parvati who had her wand out.

"How would you like me to do so, Ms. Patil?"

Parvati hesitated, apparently not having thought this the whole way through. "What," she said finally, "is your _name_?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Dumbledore said serenely.

"What," Parvati asked again, "is your _favorite color_?"

"Blue," Dumbledore said, "no wait…today is the sixth? Yes, it's blue today."

Parvati scowled, her wand rising a little higher as she tightened her grip on it. "What," she demanded, "is the _capital of Assyria_?"

"Assur, of course," Dumbledore said.

"Wrong!"

"No," Padma said, "he's right."

"He is? Really?" Parvati asked. She turned and looked at Padma. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Padma said.

"Dang," Parvati said as she lowered her wand. "I should have asked what his quest was."

"Isn't that routine just a little obvious?" Harry asked. "I mean, even _I_ have heard that before."

"Purebloods," Parvati said.

"Aren't you considered a Pureblood?"

"Depends on who's doing the counting," Padma muttered darkly. She turned to Dumbledore, "can I ask a question, Headmaster?"

"You just did, but I will certainly answer another," Dumbledore said.

"What would you have answered if she'd asked you what your quest was?"

"Why, to seek the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything, of course," Dumbledore said mischievously. After a moment his expression grew solemn. "Harry, may I talk with you for a moment?"

"If you don't mind Padma and Parvati staying," Harry said slowly. "I'd rather only go over it once."

Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded in agreement. With a swish of his wand he conjured three extra squishy armchairs and immediately took a paisley-patterned one for himself.

"How's Tonks?" Harry asked once he and the twins were settled.

"Ms. Tonks will make a full recovery, Harry," Dumbledore said. "As will Professor Snape, who is recovering from his ordeal in the privacy of his own quarters, much to the displeasure of Madam Pomfrey."

Harry winced. The idea of the medi-witch being upset with him was almost nearly as terrifying as facing down…whatever it was that Voldemort and Quirrell had become. Voldeirrell? Quirrellmort?

"Snape called him 'Master,'" Harry said.

"So you were right," Parvati said. "Snape was working for him."

"No, Ms. Patil," Dumbledore said, looking particularly grave. "While it is true that Professor Snape was once a follower of Lord Voldemort, those days are long in the past."

"Harry?" Padma asked uncertainly as her sister scowled and crossed her arms.

"Professor Snape wasn't helping him," Harry agreed unhappily, "but he said that he worked against Quirrell only because he didn't know Quirrell was working for Voldemort."

"Professor Snape enjoys my full trust and confidence, am I understood?" Dumbledore asked sternly.

Tense silence filled the Hospital Wing.

Finally, Harry asked, "The Stone?"

"Destroyed, as I'm sure you intended," Dumbledore said evenly. "That was a rather remarkable thing that you did, Harry, and very dangerous. It nearly killed you. It did kill Quirrell."

"Quirrell's dead?" Harry asked in dismay. He had wanted to stop him—all right, to delay him until Dumbledore arrived—but he hadn't wanted Quirrell _dead_. He needed to be alive to answer his questions. To find out why Voldemort had attacked his house that night, to find out what had made the Dark Lord come for _him_.

"Wait—" Harry stopped abruptly. He had _meant_ to ask 'wait, you think I destroyed the stone?' but something made him cut this question short.

"Yes?" Dumbledore said.

Reluctantly Harry said, "I don't remember destroying the Stone."

Dumbledore nodded for him to continue so Harry said: "I remember getting the Stone—nice trick with the Mirror by the way, you really had Quirrell angry since he couldn't figure it out—and then I remember it stabbing me in the hip when I landed on it, but..." he shrugged.

"Hmm…" Dumbledore said. "What _do_ you remember, Harry?" he asked.

"Quirrell trying to strangle me," Harry said bluntly. "His hands burned. Then I called fire and tried to burn him, but he put up some kind of shield, but I don't think it was strong enough. And then he tried to curse me again. 'Abracadabra' or something like it, Voldemort screaming not to use that curse, and then everything turning very green."

"'Avada Kedavra,'" Dumbledore said hesitantly. "The Killing Curse."

Parvati hissed and Padma said something in a language Harry didn't know but caused Dumbledore to raise his eyebrows.

"Sorry, Professor," Padma said, not sounding very sorry at all.

"So why aren't I dead?" Harry asked. "I mean, if the curse kills…"

"I think he missed, Harry," Dumbledore said after a moment. "I am not certain, mind. There are…signs when that curse is used, and it was. But the last time you survived it you were left with a rather distinct scar, and Voldemort was reduced to his present form. Quirrell survived for some few hours after the incident so clearly the Curse did not rebound upon him in the same manner."

"So what do you think happened, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I think a number of things happened in that chamber, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Regardless of whether or not his curse touched you, Quirrell was severely injured in his attack upon you, Harry. The destruction of the Stone—whether at your hand, an unintentional consequence, or quite possibly by being hit by the curse intended for you—caused a magical backlash that inflicted further injuries. You and Quirrell being the closest suffered the worst. Voldemort abandoned Quirrell at his hour of need, and the traumatic shock of his master abandoning him, the injuries, the magic energy unleashed when the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed, was more than most wizards could have lived through. That he was alive at all when I had arrived was little short of a miracle. But he has spent the past year with Voldemort inside of him and consuming unicorn's blood."

"To strengthen Voldemort because he was possessing Quirrell," Harry said.

"So Professor Snape has already informed me," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, one of the many side-effects of consuming unicorn's blood is that it renders most healing magic impotent. Without Voldemort, or more unicorn blood to sustain him, there was little that could have been done even had there been time to do anything."

"Was his ending bad?" Parvati asked.

Dumbledore hesitated, before nodding slowly. "It was quite bad, Ms. Patil."

Parvati looked at Harry, then towards her sister who was curled in her chair, before turning back to Dumbledore. "Good," she said in a tone that was so cold it made Harry flinch.

Dumbledore didn't reply.

"Professor, what about the Flamels?" Harry asked.

"Ah, so you know about Nicholas and Perenelle?" Dumbledore asked, sounding rather delighted after the seriousness of their discussion so far. "You _did_ do a proper job of it, didn't you?"

"I had help," Harry said uncomfortably.

"Nobody expects you to do these things on your own, Harry, least of all me," Dumbledore said. "As for Nicholas. He and I have had a little chat and we both agree that the events of this year aside, the destruction of the Stone was all for the best."

"But without the Stone, won't they…"

"Die?" Dumbledore asked gently. "Harry, everything comes to an end, eventually. Nicholas and Perenelle have a quantity of elixir laid in. Enough to set all of their affairs in order and to accomplish what tasks they have remaining, and then, yes they will die."

Padma made a soft sound and Dumbledore turned to her and smiled gently. "I am sure it is amazing to one as young as you three are, but to Nicholas and Perenelle it will be like going to bed after a very, _very_ long day. After all, to a well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone is not such a wonderful thing. As much life and gold as a human could desire. The two things that most humans would choose above all—the problem is that humans have a knack for choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

"Sir," Harry said, "the other curse Quirrell used, the one he used on Snape and me—"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking especially grave. "As for _that_ curse… Like the Killing Curse, such things are usually not discussed for some years yet in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class." He sighed heavily. "It is called the Cruciatus Curse, and it is one of the three curses that the Ministry calls 'Unforgivable'. The use of any one of three on another human being warrants no less than a life-sentence to the prison Azkaban.

"The Killing Curse, as its name implies, kills. No spell can counter it. No magic shield can block it. And with one single exception, everyone it has touched has died. Instantly," Dumbledore said, looking at him pointedly. "Thus my belief that Quirrell missed, likely drew his wand away at the last moment at his Master's order.

"As for the Cruciatus curse, it inflicts pain, Harry. Terrible, unbearable pain. It inflicts such pain that a person would do anything, give anything, to stop it. And yet, when it is released those who have had it cast upon them find that despite the agony they experienced, that no physical injury was inflicted upon them."

Harry felt rather sick. Parvati had an unusually tight expression on her face, and Padma had looked away, as though by looking anywhere else she could escape the grim descriptions of the worst spells that wizards and witches could use on one-another.

"_He's_ going to be back, isn't he, Headmaster?" Padma asked, still looking away and refusing to meet any of their looks. "He's not gone for good."

"No, Ms. Patil, Voldemort is not," Dumbledore said. "He is still out there, perhaps looking for another body to share…"

"Voldemort said that there have always been those who have been willing to let him into their hearts and minds," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured. "This is true, and now it is more literal than ever I'm afraid. Being reduced to such a state where he is not truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die. I have little doubt that he could have saved him had he wished to; he shows as little mercy to his followers as he does his enemies."

He smiled, and his mood brightened, "nevertheless, Harry, you have managed to delay his return to power. Something that even the ablest of wizards would have been very-hard pressed to do. It will merely take someone else who is prepared to take a stand for what he or she believes is right, who is prepared to fight what may seem like a losing battle—and if he is delayed again, and again, who knows, perhaps he will never return."

"Not that you believe that, Headmaster."

Dumbledore turned swiftly in his chair.

"Allie!" Harry said a moment before Dumbledore could murmur a much more restrained, "Ms. Thorne."

"Blackthorn," Allie and Harry said together.

He traded looks with her and both grinned though hers died swiftly as she crossed to the bed next to Harry's where the pile of chocolates and cards had migrated to after filling the top of his bedside cabinet. She cleared a space and hopped up onto it to face them. "Well, Headmaster?" she asked.

"Not forever, perhaps," Dumbledore said. "But for long enough."

"Sir?" Harry asked. "There are some other things I'd like to know about, if you can tell me… Things that I'd like to know the truth about…"

"The truth, alas, is a beautiful and terrible thing, Harry, and should be treated most cautiously," Dumbledore said. "Still, if you ask, I shall do my best to answer your questions, unless I have a very good reason not to in which case I shall beg your pardon. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Sir," Harry said, his throat thick. "About the Mirror. I knew how to work it when I got there, Quirrell didn't. Did you…"

"Did I deliberately engineer events so that you would find out about the Philosopher's Stone, discover the Mirror and how it works, and then have a chance to confront Quirrell and Voldemort for the Stone?" Dumbledore asked evenly.

"Forget it, Harry, he didn't know," Allie said.

Harry looked at her. "But—"

"He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Allie said. "There are Oaths with that office, Harry. Oaths that make him responsible for the safety and security of the students."

Harry watched her turn from him to meet Dumbledore's gaze as she said, "_all_ of the students."

Dumbledore, his expression grave, inclined his head slightly.

Allie nodded back and turned back to Harry. "Even if he wanted to do what you're suggesting the Oaths wouldn't have let him, not and let him remain Headmaster."

"So you didn't know?" Harry asked.

"I knew a great deal, and not as much as any of us might have hoped," Dumbledore admitted. "I admit I was suspicious after your first Quidditch game. Quirinius was quite knowledgeable about jinxes of all kinds. But he knew little of thaumaturgy, and only someone well-studied and practiced in that arte could have disrupted Ms. Thorne's duel. I knew that you were aware of the existence of the Stone, of course, but you and your friends broke no rules gathering information and it was information that neither put you at risk nor was dangerous to know and this _is_ a school."

"Why did it take so long for anyone to respond?" Allie asked unexpectedly.

Dumbledore grimaced slightly. "An arithmancy error stemming from the fact that the person who had done the calculations was purposely kept in the dark about what he was doing calculations for. The Wards of Hogwarts transfer to the Deputy Head whenever the Headmaster leaves the school grounds. While many of the subtler protections were anchored by the Wards, they were not in themselves part of the Wards and so did not transfer as they had been intended to. Only when the door to the Forbidden Corridor was opened, or as it was destroyed, did the supplemental wards rouse the suspicion of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape."

"Do you know why Voldemort came after my family?" Harry asked. "Why he came after me?"

"Harry, _he_ went after a lot of families," Padma interjected suddenly. "I…talked with my dad about it over winter."

"But he went after _me_ for a reason," Harry said.

Dumbledore gave him an inquiring look.

"He-he said that he killed my father quick, that he tried to defend us, but that my mother could have stepped aside, that he was there for me not her. But she was muggle—" Allie made a noise and Harry quickly said "mundane-born—and I thought he targeted them, so why…why _me_? If he hated…her so, why was he willing to let her live if she gave me up?"

"Alas, Harry," Dumbledore said with a very deep sigh, "this question is one I cannot answer. Not today. Not now. Put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older, I know you hate to hear this…when you are ready, you will know."

Harry knew it would be no use to argue, but from Allie's expression she was inclined to do just that anyway.

"Why couldn't Quirrell touch me?" he quickly asked, trying to divert the coming explosion. "And why does the Phoenix Amulet act funny around him?"

"Phoenix Amulet?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry reached into the Hospital Wing pajamas he was wearing and pulled out the pendant of a carved amber phoenix wreathed in gold flames that clutched an obsidian sphere in its claws. "Allie said it has some minor defensive magic, and that it'll grow hot when I'm in danger and glow in dark places, and it does. But I've also seen it burst into flame when he got near and it seemed as though Quirrell couldn't stand to be around it, not when it was in the open. During the fight with Quirrell I was even able to use it to direct fire."

"Nothing I put on it should have done that," Allie said. "To be honest, I thought any of the defensive magics would have faded. They were basically collapsed wards. The danger-detection and glowing bits were the only pieces I had any faith would stay."

Harry looked at her, and quickly realized she had deliberately not mentioned the magic null-zone that would not yet be fully charged even if he dared use it.

Dumbledore hummed softly to himself as he peered closely at the amulet.

"I see," he said softly. "To answer your concern, Ms. Thorne, I do not believe that any of _your_ wards have remained. To explain the rest, however, will first require that I answer Harry's other question."

He turned to Harry. "The reason that Quirrell could not touch you—that doing so caused him great pain and injuries far worse than those seen with the eye alone—is quite simply that your mother died to save you. If there is one thing that Voldemort does not understand it is love. He didn't realize that a love as powerful as your mother's love for you leaves its own kind of mark. Not a scar, not a sigil, or anything that can be seen…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person is gone forever, leaves some protection. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, filled with hatred, and greed, and ambition, sharing his very soul with Voldemort could not touch you for this very reason. It was agony to touch something so good."

"A lot of families were killed, Headmaster," Padma said stiffly. "Harry's situation could not have been unique."

"But he survived the killing curse and nobody else has," Parvati said.

Padma scowled, "and how do we know it is that curse anyway?"

"As I said before, there are ways of knowing, Ms. Patil." Dumbledore said to Padma. "There are signs, magical signatures, arithmantical models…"

"And as for your observation, Ms. Patil," he continued to Parvati, "there has always been an element in Harry's case that I have never fully understood. Understand, we are talking about some of the very oldest of magics. Magics on a level that are so primal, that are so innate with the universe, that even those people who are otherwise unable to do any magic at all can tap into it. The kind of magic that can lead an estranged family to reconcile or for a mother to lift an impossibly heavy object to free a trapped child.

"Magic is an _art_, not a science. Even in the most common of magic practiced today we talk about 'Laws of Magic', but the best we have are theories that we know to be true and have never been able to fully explain why. There is far more uncertainty in the oldest and wildest of magics than there is understanding.

"It is entirely possible that when Voldemort cast his spell, his luck or fate or whatever you wish to call it ran out. That love, or magic, or something even deeper had had enough and chose to reject his actions or counter them. Or perhaps it was a rebound from karma, or perhaps a ritual that went wrong, or that the precise combination of spells and rituals and experiments he had undergone in his mad quest for immortality reflected poorly upon him. Or, perhaps, if he spoke truthfully to Harry, in offering Harry's mother the chance to stand aside he unwittingly made some form of magically-binding Oath and killing her violated it.

"Lily Potter was a brilliant young witch, exceptional with charms, one of the two or three best potion students I have seen in all my years at Hogwarts; if anyone could have seen a loophole or a method, anything in those frantic seconds and had a chance and the means to exploit it, it would have been her."

Dumbledore fell silent, and when he spoke again it was in calm, measured phrases.

"Certainly it was Lily Potter's love that made Harry's touch so ruinous for Quirrell," he said. "Whether or not it was sufficient on its own to account for the events of that night, or even if it was intentional or an unintended byproduct, I do not know.

"Turning to your question about the Phoenix Amulet as you called it, Harry. Ms. Thorne's attempt to collapse wards into it would normally make it little more than a curiosity piece. Wards are not meant to be mobile and using them so would rapidly drain them of their potency.

"However, crossed with your unique circumstances, the prevalence of magic around Hogwarts, Voldemort's attempts on your life this past year, and now the destruction of the Philosopher's Stone and Quirrell's attempted Killing Curse…"

Dumbledore fell silent. "Without testing I have only guesses to offer, Harry."

"I'll take whatever you can give me," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "In that case I shall tell you that the amulet has become more than it was ever intended to be. Certainly it is capable of acting as a focus for a portion of your magic, you have become increasingly proficient with your ability to call and direct fire since you started wearing it, I imagine."

"You mean my ability comes from this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the amulet.

Dumbledore blinked. "By no means. The vast majority of witches and wizards can work very minor magics, such as lighting candles, without a wand—or would if they had a desire to learn how and practice. Most do not for such abilities are little more than parlor tricks compared to the capability and versatility a wand brings. Your ability with fire certainly goes past 'very minor', the amulet only enhances your natural ability. Simply put, it is acting much like a wand though in a very narrow field.

"I am less certain, but based on your descriptions of how it has responded in the presence of Voldemort before now I also suspect it has become something much like a mobile node for the wards in place on #4 Privet Drive. I cannot say that I have ever heard of such before, and indeed I may be wrong, but I strongly urge you to keep it with you at all times, Harry."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry lifted another small pile of sweets from the mound that had spilled from the bedside cupboard in the hospital wing to form a small mountain on the floor. He poured it from his hands into one of the book-bags Ron had brought up and turned back to repeat the motion again, but something hard, white, and flat caught his attention. Kneeling, he began to brush aside chocolate frogs and every-flavor beans, ice mice and pepper imps, a bag of lemon drops that he knew had to be from Dumbledore and a bag of small mars bars that he had no idea how had gotten into Hogwarts. In short order he revealed a toilet seat, scrupulously clean, with the antiseptic bite of the medical-grade cleaning spells that kept Madam Pomfrey's domain germ-free. On the lid was a small plaque declaring it an authentic Hogwarts' toilet seat, the day it was retrieved, and that it had been borrowed from the second floor girl's bathroom, second stall from the right.

"So they managed to sneak one in here after all."

Harry turned to find Allie standing by the foot of the bed he'd been in for the past three days.

"Allie," he said, standing. He set the toilet seat on the foot of the bed, next to the two already full bags of candy. She didn't reply, just stood there watching him with an expression he couldn't begin to decipher. "Dumbledore came back," he said. When she didn't say anything he continued, "he said that you got to me before he did," he said awkwardly. "He also said that I looked…pretty bad and that you helped him. Thank you."

"Jump."

The word came so suddenly and unexpectedly that Harry found himself in the air before he fully realized she had spoken at all. Feeling rather foolish he looked away as he felt his cheeks heat.

"Harry look at—no, don't—_damn it_," she swore fervently.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked cautiously as he turned back to his friend.

"Oh _I_ am just fine," she said wryly. "So are you, in fact."

"So what's the problem?" Harry asked.

"You shouldn't be," she said, her voice suddenly flat. She shook one sleeve back, exposing an empty wrist. Before Harry could say anything she produced the familiar band of silver. The metal rippled as her wrist passed through it and then snapped back into place around her wrist. She shook the sleeve back into place again, but continued to stare at it. "You shouldn't be fine. Quite the opposite, actually," she added, looking up at him.

"Dumbledore said that he got there just in time to—"

"To what, save you?" she cut him off.

Her harsh tone made Harry take a step back.

"You weren't dead when I got up there, Harry," she said, "but you weren't far from it."

Harry swallowed. "But I'm alive now. You?"

She nodded.

"How?" he asked. "I mean, CPR?"

"You weren't like Padma," she said. "There might be a little flex, some quibbling over when death occurs, but you were past it. You hadn't stopped breathing yet, but you were past the point where you should have been able to come back from."

"Your bracelet," Harry said slowly. "The one that you just put on," he continued, thinking quickly. "It's some kind of ward or binding on your powers, so you took it off and…called me back?" He was guessing, but it sounded good. Being able to convince magical pests to leave a house didn't seem all that impressive, but she must have done something to scare Mr. Patil. He knew she was scared of herself. That she could bring a person back from the dead was certainly powerful magic, but he couldn't see how it would be particularly scary or feared.

"No," she said flatly. "I told you not to die."

"Oh," Harry said, not really understanding.

"You were past the point of healing magic, and I kept you from dying," she said.

"Oh," Harry said again, steadying himself on the bed as he suddenly felt ill.

She gave a choppy nod.

"So then how…" he gestured to himself.

"As I said, you got lucky."

"So everything's all right then?" he asked.

"No it bloody well isn't," she said harshly. "It isn't supposed to happen. I'm not near powerful enough, maybe never will be powerful enough, to do that. Meddling with death is _serious_, Harry."

Harry slowly sat on the bed as he tried to wrap his mind around what he'd just been told. On the whole it sounded too fantastic too be true. On the other hand, Quirrell and Voldemort really had been trying to kill him and he'd certainly felt like he was dying, and even Dumbledore said it had been close. "Okay," he said slowly. "So what? I mean, it isn't a bad thing, is it?"

"If the Ministry finds out, the trial will last about five minutes and the sentence is executed immediately," she said in a tone that was almost casual.

"Prison?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, "I suppose it's as good a place as any."

Harry frowned.

"They use a sword."

"Oh," Harry whispered.

"I did say 'executed'," she noted dryly. "That's if they're feeling merciful, of course," she continued into the silence that had suddenly threatened to drag on forever. "If they aren't it'll take them ten or twelve hours before they get to the part where they use the sword. Unless they decide to go with an axe, then I have to hope that the executioner knows what he's doing or it'll take them a couple of whacks to get the job done proper…if they don't screw it up like Sir Nicholas'."

"But—but _why_?" Harry asked. "I mean, how is saving someone's life a bad thing?"

"Saving a life isn't," she said. "But what I did is a major no-no. Compelling someone is right up there on the list as well, and I certainly compelled you to stay alive. I mean, if the Ministry knew…technically I was in a legal grey area because I hadn't used my abilities on humans. There is a reason why I had a run bag—more than one, actually—stashed just in case. Didn't you ever wonder? As long as I wasn't using my abilities on humans I was technically in the clear, but that isn't the case any more, is it?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked. "Tonks was unconscious when I got to the chamber. Snape arrived later than me, but he was tortured badly, he couldn't possibly remember you saving me. Not if you were able to convince Dumbledore that you hadn't. So why tell me?"

"Because I don't know if there are any side-effects," she said.

"What kind of side-effects?" Harry asked curiously.

Allie gestured to the mist-grey cat that was curled on the bed opposite the one he'd used.

"Cammie, right?" Harry asked. "You said she followed you from your apartment building."

"Kami, actually, good memory," she said.

The cat hopped off the bed, then stood on its back legs. For a moment it stared at Harry, then began to walk, on its rear legs, across to his bed then back to Allie.

"She used to be a stray. We'd see her every couple of weeks—this was back when I still lived with the Patils. Then one day I wanted her to come to me so I could pet her. When I woke up the next morning she was on my bed. Since then I've had absolute control of her. I can make her stand on her hind legs and dance with a mere thought."

"That's why you told me to jump," Harry said. "You wanted to see if by bringing me back you'd had that kind of control."

"Yes."

"And you think you do?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Were you reacting because someone told you to jump, because it was someone who you trusted that told you to jump, or because I _compelled_ you?"

"Um…I suppose we could test—"

"_No!_"

Harry started, and Allie took a calming breath before repeating herself.

"No, Harry," she said, her tone suddenly formal. "If I have no power over you, or if that power is very weak, practicing could very well put you under my sway. As it is, and if you are but lightly, then there is a good chance it may fade in time if we let it alone.

"Yet I shall offer you this Oath. If ever you need my aid, in magic or steel, in blood or treasure, you have but to ask and anything I can grant shall be yours."

Before Harry could say anything she scooped up Kami and quickly left.

\|/\|/\|/

The walls of the Great Hall were draped in green and silver hangings. An absolutely enormous banner with the Slytherin serpent on it hung behind the chairs of the High Table.

"You knew the Slytherins were going to win," Justin said when Harry stopped to look at the hangings.

Harry nodded, not sure why he felt surprised by the presence of the banners. "There's always next year, I suppose."

He found a place with Justin and Ernie at the Hufflepuff table. For the first time in months none of his friends from the other houses came over to eat with them, which Harry found even more upsetting than the presence of the Slytherin banners.

Dumbledore stood and started to speak.

Harry toned him out as he looked around the Hall. Allie sat near a boy and girl he vaguely recognized from class but couldn't recall the names of. She didn't have her familiar smirk, but she didn't look as serious the last time he had seen her. Padma, at the Ravenclaw table, was talking with another girl. Discussing grades? Probably.

People started to clap and the students seated at the Slytherin table looked very smug.

Harry clapped half-heartedly and turned to look at Gryffindor. Hermione and Ron were sitting together, flanked, surprisingly, by Neville and Parvati. He never had asked out what the other boy had done to get lumped into the detention in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione was watching Dumbledore attentively, Ron just looked bored. Neville seemed kind of nervous, as though he didn't really feel like he belonged there. Parvati had her wand mostly hidden up a sleeve, but was using it to change the color of polish on her fingernails.

There was more clapping.

Harry looked around the hall, mentally replacing the hangings with Hogwarts' purple, and the serpent with the Hogwarts crest. The sky as it appeared through the roof was still bright as the sun dipped low. The stone shone with gold where its light caught. There was not a cloud to be seen. Perfect for a last flight before they had to go home.

"…to Nymphadora Tonks."

Harry looked up as the rest of the table began to clap.

"What?" he hissed to Justin.

"Dumbledore!" Justin hissed back. "He said he's got some last-minute points to hand out. Padma's already put Ravenclaw over Slytherin!"

Harry whipped around to look at the hourglasses. Ravenclaw had been buoyed up during the end-of-year cramming and review sessions that the Professors had held, putting them narrowly into second place. Now they were in first!

He looked at Tonks who was sitting with Sam and the other departing seventh years. She glowered at the Headmaster but didn't say anything. He turned back to the hourglass. Hermione had done much for Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff had lagged behind largely because Snape took so many points from him for the losses Slytherin had suffered. Too many for his House, though they had tried valiantly, to make up.

He was only half-paying attention when with the table began to clap again as Dumbledore awarded more points to Cedric.

Harry turned back to the hourglass again, not really trusting his math, but yes, they were now on level with Ravenclaw. Then Hermione and Ron were each awarded points for things Harry couldn't remember being told about, but had helped Dumbledore and the other Professors get to Harry as quickly as possible and get him and the other survivors to the hospital wing.

Justin and Ernie were each awarded a handful of points for waking the teachers and sounding the alarm. Then Dumbledore turned to Harry.

Harry turned away. He put his head on the table and covered his ears, desperate to avoid the attention Dumbledore was giving him, but the clapping hands, the backslaps and 'well done, Harry's from his fellow Hufflepuffs trapped him. The pieces of polished obsidian used to mark the Hufflepuff points exceeded that of Ravenclaw.

Then Dumbledore turned. He wasn't done.

Harry watched as Neville—who looked even more eager than Harry felt to escape the sudden attention—was awarded points for apparently trying to stop Parvati from getting out of Gryffindor Tower. His eyes tracked back to the hourglasses. A bare handful of rubies trickled in as the entire Hall sank into silence as they tried to grasp what the Headmaster had just done.

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had tied for the House Cup.

The Hall roared!

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were the loudest, Harry thought. Ravenclaw almost equally so for they were just as happy to Slytherin lose as they were to have beaten the hated House. Slytherin was far from silent, but their yells were hardly those of congratulations coming from the other tables.

In the middle of it, feeling rather sick to his stomach, Harry stood and walked towards the doors.

He was aware of the banners turned to a mix of red/gold and yellow/black with lions and badgers scurrying around, but he didn't really see them. He was aware too of the Hall falling into silence as he cleared the end of the table, but he didn't hear that any more than he saw the changes Dumbledore had brought to the wall hangings.

Justin and Ernie stood and hurried down the Hall to catch up to him. Parvati and Padma were almost as fast, but had had further to go.

"Harry what—"

Harry shook his head and Justin fell silent as he turned down the staircase towards the Hufflepuff common room.

Back in the Great Hall Tonks stood.

"Tonks."

"He saved my life, Luc," Tonks told her best friend.

Cedric had also gotten up. With three of her teammates—and they _were_ still _her_ teammates, dammit—Samothrace Capper stood and followed, followed in turn by the rest of the Hufflepuff Quiditch Team standing from where they were seated along the table.

At that point it became a sort of general exodus. The Hufflepuff table deserted in blocks. Hermione and Ron left Gryffindor table first accompanied by Neville and, since the Hufflepuff Team was going, the Gryffindor Team went as well. Fred and George thought the whole thing hilarious and the best prank for emptying the Great Hall yet.

Then Terry Boot decided that he didn't want to eat dinner with just the snakes which started the rest of Ravenclaw leaving as well as they decided there was no logical reason to enjoy a feast where the guests of honor were not present.

Allie stood as well. If Harry had been there he would have seen her speak to the two House-mates she was sitting with, and would have seen them both refuse before she joined the students leaving the Hall.

At the High Table Albus Dumbledore stared at the doors of the Great Hall, trying to understand what had just happened.

"Oh, Albus," Pomona Sprout sighed from her place down the table from him. "How _could_ you?" But Dumbledore didn't hear her.

At his place on the opposite side of the table from Pomona, Filius Flitwick noticed a small envelope propped up against his water glass. He noted the seal, and with mounting trepidation, opened it and noted the one word written in bold, hot pink, block letters.

DUCK

Hardly the fool Filius put one hand on the table, keeping a firm grasp on the letter, and with a tiny shove lifted himself off his high chair and dropped lightly to the floor, just in time to miss a rather large pie that took Septima in the side.

He ducked under the table and examined the note again.

FOOD FIGHT CLEARS GREAT HALL BEFORE DESERT.

HLC

Penned underneath this in a different hand was

_Watch out for the pie-bomber_.

Filius closed his eyes as outside his place under the table the screaming began.

Over it all he could hear a very disturbing _hee hee hee_

\|/\|/\|/

Peeves pulled the goggles on the antiquated leather flying cap down over his eyes.

By now the doors of the Great Hall would be sealed. True, it was a little earlier than his friends had intended, and it seemed like most of his potential targets had escaped, but what was a little chaos among pranksters?

Happiness, he decided as his stuck out his tongue and made a noise that somewhat resembled a turboprop engine, was an open field of fire, lots of willing—or was it milling?—targets with nowhere to run, and plenty of freshly baked pies.

The only question was where to start.

The Poltergeist lifted one and sniffed.

"Blueberry."

\|/\|/\|/

"Harry, you can't stay here."

Harry opened his eyes from where he'd flung himself on a couch in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Standing over him was a worried looking Tonks with slightly frazzled black hair.

"What is it?" he asked.

"About three quarters of the school is heading this way," Tonks said as Harry noticed the common room was quite a bit larger than before. "The Campfire has moved out of the way, and I heard Fred and George were making a run for the kitchen."

"Oh," Harry said. He looked around the _much_ larger common room. "Yeah, leaving is probably a good idea. Tell everyone the Tower."

With that he headed for the burrows.

\|/\|/\|/

"'Each year we gain a little. We need to keep a sense of proportion.'"

Harry glanced up from slipping his chocolate frog cards into the little sleeves in the album somebody had left him in among the piles of sweets in the Hospital Wing. Allie was standing at the window, one hand braced on the luggage rack over the seats. All of his friends had trickled in in ones and twos to exchange farewells and trade news about their summer plans. Cedric was going to a Quidditch camp, while Tonks had a few weeks and then reported to the Auror Academy as their newest recruit. Hermione was vacationing with her parents, though there was a chance that she and Harry would be able to visit Ron and he hoped to be able to visit the Patils.

"I remember reading that somewhere," Allie mused. "I guess I never really realized how right he was."

She fell silent again.

"So what are your summer plans?" Harry asked.

"I thought I might go home," Allie said, staring out the window of the compartment as the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station. "At the very least I need to see Glencloud again."

"What about your grandmother? Are you going to make peace with her?"

"It's rather too late for that," Allie's voice turned cold and her hands convulsed into tight fists. "Words spoken cannot be unspoken. To my shame, I can't find it in myself to forgive her…which makes me think less of myself and I can't forgive her for that either. "

She turned back to Harry. "Master G knows more about my family than anyone else outside it, but there are things I can only learn from inside. I need her, and since there aren't many other choices of who is going to be the next Mistress of Thornes…she needs me.

"What about you?" Allie asked. "I noticed you didn't mention any plans either?"

"Nothing really," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore said that I have to go back to Privet Drive. Something about needing to spend time there each year to recharge the wards.

"I can write," he offered.

"As can I, though it may be that correspondence while inside my family's borders may prove unlikely." she said, then suddenly grinned. "Remember that letter from Ron's brother?"

Harry laughed. "I thought we were goners. Did you think that stuff up in advance?"

She shook her head. "Two rules for telling a good lie, Harry. The first is not to, so people won't be inclined to really think over what you say. The second is to be specific. People aren't vague in real life, so it draws attention when you are. It isn't much, but the wizarding world does seem to accept explanation that the mundane world would consider…unlikely at best.

"Good luck, Harry," she said, lifting her trunk as Kami lept lightly to her shoulder. "Take care. And I'll see you in the fall, even if I'm unable to write."

\|/\|/\|/

Allie's quote is from Robert A. Heinlein's _Starship Troopers_


End file.
